You're The One That I Want
by RomaniaBites
Summary: Antonio, a wealthy nobleman, is happy with his life now that he has the cute, grumpy Italian baker in his arms. But with their relationship kept secret, it only leaves plenty of elbow room for misunderstandings, heartache, and a false engagement. Spamano
1. Chapter 1

**You're The One That I Want**

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><p><strong>prologue<strong>

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo would never have imagined his life would take such an interesting turn when he ventured into the town that faithful day.

He was seventeen, alone inside, trapped by the responsibility his parents insisted always be on his shoulders. His real friends—the ones with intentions _beyond_ money, fame, and status—were scarce; he had about four. All his life. Four friends. Alvarez was his older brother, but even he refused to have _anything_ to do with Antonio. So he was out, too.

Tired of all this, the young Spanish noble had snuck out of his castle-like abode at dawn one morning, creeped through the vast garden full of his very own tomato plants, and took a hidden-passage way—one only _he_ knew—out.

The trip to the town center was simple enough. He wore commoner clothes, not the expensive, scratchy suits his parents forced on him every single day. Thankfully, by the time he got to the square after the sun came up, not one person spared him a second glance.

He'd spent most of the morning taking in the wonderful scenery of a busy but friendly town. People waved at each other from across shops, women chatted excitedly over produce at the stands with their babies carefully bundled in their arms, children ran around, playing, or helping their parents carry buckets of milk back home from the ranch. Those who cooked food right on the streets were beginning to start up the flames on their makeshift stoves. It was absolutely _wonderful_.

Walking further down the road, Antonio found himself drawn to the open window of the local bakery. _"'Rome's"_ the sign above read. Even from outside, he could pick up the delightful smell of fresh-baked bread right out of the brick-oven. His mouth watered as he continued to inhale the sweet fumes of the pastries.

The door chimed when he pushed it open, signaling his presence to the shopkeeper. His stomach growled shamelessly as he was assaulted with the sight of different types of bread, rolls, cakes, and cookies. The scents overwhelmed him. His eyes locked on the steaming loaf of banana-nut bread on the counter, and just as he reached for it, a wooden spoon smacked him sharply on his head.

_"Ouch!"_

"Don't fucking touch the bread, you damn _bastard_!"

And that was how he had met the love of his life, the very reason for his existence.

The one who would change his entire perception of what seemed to be an infinitely meaningless life.

_Lovino Vargas._

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><p><strong>AN: Short chapter is very short orz**

**I promise the next one will be full of actual plot! Hahahaha~**

**For sure, there will be Spamano (Antonio and Lovino). All the way, no matter what. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Hetalia! It's too awesome ~**


	2. Chapter 2

**one**

If one were to think of a bakery, most would usually conjure a mental image that consisted of rows and rows of bread, pies, cakes (and the occasional cinnamon roll) all stacked inside brown wicker-baskets arranged neatly on tables around a brightly-lit room. Beside the counter would be a glass shield protecting that day's specialties from grubby hands and unsupervised, hungry children. Beyond the open door where only authorized employees could enter would be the sight of the most _marvelous_ brick oven heating up whatever glazed dough was inside it at that moment.

Maybe one could also imagine the cheerful laughter of a plump, kind old man with only pure goodness in his heart. A kind of man who would hand free treats to the little children who couldn't afford regular meals most days.

But when Antonio thought of bakeries, whether they be modern ones from the big cities or like the old, traditional one in town, his mind thought first of the back room.

The back room...with its many wooden shelves along the walls holding boxes that were clearly just hastily thrown on during a busy day some time ago. The back room, with dusty crates here and there, empty glass jars tipped on the floor, and cobwebs on every corner. The back room, with layers of dust covering all surfaces that had not been touched in years.

The back room, with a fiery little Italian pinned against the stone wall, panting into the kiss they had just shared, cheeks flushed, in his arms.

_That_ back room.

"Mmm..._Lovi_..."

"B-bastard..."

Antonio smiled at that; he had gotten too used to Lovino's insults to the point that they simply became pet-names for him. Granted, he had never been addressed as anything as nice as "sweetheart" or "love" or "darling" or "baby". But really, that was fine with him. Because Lovi was _Lovi_.

So for Antonio, "bastard" and "asshole" and "dumbfuck" and "retard" were sweeter than any of the most doting nicknames anyone could ever give him.

"_Bésame_..." he whispered for only their ears to hear, wrapping his arms tighter around the smaller man. He pulled them flush against each other, hearts beating madly as one. Lovino glanced up at him and Antonio's breath hitched at that beautifully irritated, flushed, oddly-_innocent_ look that his lover had on his flawless face. His hazel eyes—ones with flecks of gold that were so very unique for just_ him_—pierced through the Spaniard's very being, leaving him defenseless and at the mercy of this young man.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was madly, hopelessly, _undeniably_ in love with Lovino Vargas.

_"Bésame!"_ he gasped, lunging in for another bruising kiss. Their tongues moved in an elaborate tango, slippery, wet, and oh-so very _hot_. Their lips were so glued together that it almost seemed painful. Lovino managed to capture the taller man's tongue; he pulled it into his mouth and he sucked on it like he would a lollipop.

Poor Antonio lost his mind.

_"Uwah!"_

He'd never really been one for blushing. That was all Lovi, who could never even hear a compliment without turning tomato red. Who could never be pulled into an embrace without his cheeks bursting into flames at that simple touch. But now, it was the Spaniard whose face flushed about thirty different shades of red, whose body trembled slightly as arms wound around his neck and drew them even closer.

Closer closer _closer_.

His body seemed to have a mind of its own, grabbing the lithe Italian's full hips firmly; Lovino, he always thought, was almost built like a _girl_. He found himself grinding against his lover, startling the other into abandoning his tongue and gasping. If Lovi was blushing before, it was nothing compared to how quickly an even more vibrant red spread throughout his body _now_. His lower half reacted enthusiastically to the touch, if the obvious bulge in his pants was anything to go by. And, the Italian realized with some satisfaction, Antonio seemed to be having that same exact problem.

Hesitantly, as though too embarrassed at the prospect of submitting to his desires, Lovino began to rock his hips against his lover, rubbing their arousals together with vigor. He couldn't help the low moan that slipped out of his lips when he felt hands delicately squeeze his bottom. He bucked his hips involuntarily, and was pleased by the deep groan he received in reply.

"Lovi..._my Lovi_..." Antonio brought him in for another searing kiss. His hands slipped inside the Italian's faded white shirt, sliding over soft, velvety skin. It was warm to the touch, inviting him to explore and _conquer_. Lovino let out a strangled cry, his own hands reaching for the Spaniard's forearms in a firm grip.

"S-stop!" he cried, attempting to tug on the muscular limbs. He was positively trembling, breath warm, that odd errant curl on the side of his head twitching. Antonio, however, continued his journey up up up his lover's body, finding its place between the two delicate nubs there. Without warning, he tweaked both of them at the same time, each hand twisting its own.

"Aah!"

"¿_Te gusta_?" murmured Antonio in his perfect Spanish accent, leaning closer so his lips could attach themselves to the exposed neck before him. As his fingers continued to pleasure his beloved—an act that, judging from the delicious sounds the filled the room, was quite successful—he found himself marking and claiming whatever bits of flesh were in his reach.

He wanted to make sure nobody would even_ think_ about looking at _his_ Lovi. People would take one glance at the many love-marks covering his body and realize that yes, that beautiful brunette was taken. Yes, they would get hurt if they touched him nonetheless.

Yes, Antonio was _very_ possessive.

But when one loved and cherished someone as much as he loved Lovino, when one's universe was centered solely on that always-present, infuriatingly adorable scowl...

Surely he had all the right to be selfish?

"I—_keep your fucking hands away from there_!"

"Aww, Lovi~ I just want to make love to you!"

"How many times do I have to say that I'm saving myself for my—_ngh_—wedding day?" There was no stopping the gasp that escaped his mouth when a tongue ran over the length of one particular hair curl...

"You're too _cute_, _querido_..."

"O-oi! _Bastardo_! I still have to fucking work! You want my _nonno_ to think I got mugged?" Lovino growled after a particularly hard nip on his Adam's apple. He finally managed to push the Spaniard's arms off him, tugging his shirt down with a scoff. Antonio pouted as he watched the younger man continue to compose himself, slowly recovering from his flustered—and very adorable—state. It didn't take long for him to look as though nothing had happened in the three hours that they had spent basking in their never-ending love.

It really was amazing how both of them could just forget the entire world the moment they entered the back room. Just Antonio and Lovino. Lovino and Antonio. Nobody else, nothing _more_.

"Aww! No, Lovi, five more minutes, _por favor_!"

"You sound like a little boy right now, asshole."

"Ahahahaha~ But then, wouldn't that make you a pedophile,_ cariño_?"

"Wha—I'll have you know that _you're_ the pedo, old man! Who's already in their twenties, huh?"

Antonio laughed. He took the baker's hands in his own and held them with care, as though he was handling the most fragile of glasses. Sighing contently, he brought them to his lips, pressing soft kisses to each knuckle, then, when he turned them over, each palm. "_Te amo_."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," muttered Lovino, turning his head to the side in an attempt to hide the fresh blush that had quickly bloomed to his cheeks when he heard the little declaration from his lover. He found himself staring fixedly at a cobweb off to the side decorating the lower shelves. So very _interesting_...

"Do you know how much I love you, _querido_?" The older man had now plopped himself into one of the worn-down chairs that they had cleaned up for use, pulling his companion to his lap. In response, the smaller male shifted his position so that he was straddling his lover, a hand lazily coming up to play with his curls. Grinning at the small act of affection, Antonio leaned in closer, his lips brushing the other's ear as he spoke, "Do you?"

"Hmph."

"Try guessing, _mi amor_..."

"Well then, I don't fucking know. A lot? How much, bastard?"

The Spaniard pulled back slightly, staring at his beloved with a very serious expression. For a moment, that was all they did—losing themselves within each other—until Antonio widened his eyes suddenly and beckoned the Italian closer. When their faces were only a few centimeters apart, he whispered, as though telling the greatest secret in the world, "Not a lot, Lovi. _Never_ just a lot. No...my love for you...it is _immeasurable_! You couldn't _possibly_ describe it! It goes on forever and ever and_ ever_—"

"Oh my fucking God, you sound like a teenage _girl_—"

"And nobody's love for each other could possibly compare to how much _I_ love you!"

"Dios mio..." Lovino, despite his annoyed scowl and crossed arms, was secretly delighted at those words; _nobody_ had ever even paid him a second glance compared to his perfect little brother before! It was always Feli this, and Feli _that_. _Who the hell was Lovino? There was an older one? Oh, that really pissy guy? What a shame! How could poor Feli be related to the likes of _him_..._

Yet now...to have someone who not only chose him over his cute, adorable_ fratellino_, but who had actually declared that he loved him more than anything else...more than basically his own life...

Oh, God, _breathe_, Lovino!

"_Te amo, mi coraz_ó_n. Mi mundo. Mi vida. Mi amor_." And now he was kissing him, holding him close, pulling them together. It was a different kind of kiss this time. Slow. Loving. _Chaste_. Not so much passion and tongue, just lip-on-lip, feeling pouring into every movement. Antonio intertwined both sets of their fingers, tugging him closer and closer.

If time stopped right now, froze forever in this moment, then they both would've pretty much been content with the rest of their lives. Together. In _love_.

Lovino had never hated breathing before as much as he did now when they had to part. But really, passing out from lack of oxygen would be a total turn off. Although, having a handsome Spanish boyfriend doting on you, fussing over your health and comfort and every little thing, wouldn't be bad at all...

_'Where the hell did your pride go, Lovino?'_

"D-dammit, bastard...we can't stay any longer..." he muttered after a beat, unwinding their fingers and scrambling to his feet. Nervously, he tugged on a loose string hanging from the hem of his shirt, fidgeting slightly. Stupid Antonio...making him feel this way...

"Ah, but I do not care. Not when I have _you_ here with me..." And there it was, that trademark grin that could send all girls to their happy unconsciousness in one shot. Not that Lovino thought it could do that! It...it was actually so _stupid_ it made people—who were coincidentally females—pass out. From all the idiocy. Yes.

"Too fucking bad. _I_ care, 'cause my _nonno_'s gunna be pissed if I skip off on work. But if you want to stay, I'll leave and lock you up here till Thursday, that okay, asshole?"

"Aww, Lovi~ You'd lock me up? I'm so happy! You really must love me~!"

"...bastard."

After about five more minutes (just like Antonio had asked beforehand...dammit) they were all ready to go. Jackets on, covering all love marks on their necks, hair flattened and neat, not a single strand out of place. _Perfect_.

It was pretty much routine at this point. They'd finish their little 'meeting' with the older of the two whining for another kiss (or twelve), and Lovino might or might not give in, depending on the day. Then both would fix themselves up a bit, making sure that their appearances were nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that gave away all the love they shared for that particular afternoon. Finally, the young baker would unlock the steel door, crack it open it only very slightly so he could check for any wandering passersby who might see them leave (though there never was).

Then they'd part ways until Thursday or Sunday hit.

_Their_ days, when only _they_ existed in the world, with only the airs of love and passion making up their atmosphere. Where there were only sparkling green eyes and wide olive ones. Where there were _no_ responsibility, _no_ inheritance, _no_ parents who pushed and pushed until life held no more purpose... Just them, Antonio and Lovino. _Lovino and Antonio_.

"Let's go, bastard."

And just like that, their perfect little world came to a halt. They were back to reality again, back to hardships and stress and unhappiness. The moment they stepped out the back room, they put on a set of new eyes. Masks. Something to protect what was inside, because at this point, that was all that they had.

"Ah._ Sí_...oh, but first, a token of my love for you, _mi amor_!" Antonio gently placed a single red rose on his lover's palm, stroking the petals as he gazed lovingly into those happy olive eyes.

And yet another ritual.

Before they parted, Antonio would present Lovino with some type of rose (or carnation) that he had brought with him earlier that day. Most of the time, it was red. On some occasions, white.

Regardless, Lovino would pretend that the idea was tacky _("Do I look like a fucking girl? And why are _you_ giving _me_ flowers? You trying to say something, dumbass?"),_ but really, it pulled at his heartstrings every time.

And in return, he'd hand Antonio a basket of homemade banana-nut bread, his absolute favorite.

Just like now.

"Here, bastard, we had some leftovers and I wanted to get rid of them...so..."

"_Gracias_, Lovinito~ You know me so well~"

"Sh-shut up!"

**DUN. DUN.**

Somewhere above them, the large clock tower signaled the passing of another hour, signaled the end of that day's meeting.

Signaled good-bye.

"Guess it's time to go home and work my ass off," Lovino muttered in what he hoped was an off-hand voice. He cleared his throat to rid of the tightness that suddenly overcame it. _'Calm down,. You'll see him again.'_ "See you around, bastard."

"_P-pero_—_espera_!" A hand grabbed him before he could turn away.

"What?"

"_Bésame_? One last time?"

He couldn't even come back with a harsh reply to that. Mostly because he_ wanted_ it, too. Instead, he met his lover in the middle and delicately pressed their lips together—once more—before pulling back with a sigh. That was it. If he didn't leave now, Antonio would surely convince him to stay for the rest of the afternoon. Or maybe the whole day...

"_Arrivederci_, Antonio."

"_Adios, mi amor. Mio Lovi_..."

And the Italian left, the single red rose in his hand. Because the back room's door led to a lone alleyway, there were only two ways to go. Lovino always went left, where turning the corner led to the market, and further up, his grandfather's bakery. Antonio was forced to take the opposite direction because it led directly to the gates where he was always picked up.

Like usual, he found himself watching the retreating back of his lover, towards the bright end of alleyway. Before turning, he saw Lovino bring the rose to his face. To his nose.

Like he always did.

"_Te amo_, Lovi...more than you know..."

With a sigh, the happy-go-lucky Spaniard trudged back down the darker side of the alley, blindly touching the stonewall beside him that led him to the first clearing. The small trek to the gates was pretty much the only time he could really _think_. That was, without any distractions, whether they be bossy parents or cute little Italians with the most colorful vocabulary.

Right now, though, the latter still took up most of his thoughts.

_"How many times do I have to say that I'm saving myself for my wedding day?"_

His wedding day...

What did that _mean_?

Did Lovi want to marry him then, was that it? Or was he just talking about getting married in general? Wait…Oh, no! What if Lovi didn't think he was serious? What if he expected to marry _someone else_ in the future? Someone that wasn't_ him_? That wouldn't work!_ Antonio_ loved him the most! Why would he think otherwise? Maybe he should go back and assure him that one day, they would be together as husband and…husband.

_Forever._

No...

_No, calm down Toni,_ the young nobleman thought to himself as he casually strolled into the main road of the town from behind one of the buildings the alleyway led to. He quickly walked to the new car waiting for him parked in front the local bank—which _so_ obviously did _not_ belong there compared to the relatively simple lifestyle of the townsfolk—and was instantly greeted by his around-the clock personal...assistant.

(He really was a servant, but Antonio preferred not to label anyone with that.)

"_Buenas tardes_, Boss," the young worker greeted him politely, opening the backseat door even before Antonio reached it. He had somewhat long, jet black hair that came down to his eyes (which where an honest dark brown), a few wayward stands here and there. His skin was tan from all the work he spent outside, whether they be assisting with the fields or caring for the animals. Though he had the body of a worker, his face was more appropriately of a handsome prince.

"_Hola_, Aluino. ¿_Qué pasa_?" the taller man replied with a smile, climbing into the vehicle. "_Gracias, amigo_."

"_De nada_. Did you have a good day?"

"_Sí_. It was _fantastico_..."

During the drive home, as Antonio admired the many acres of fields they passed by, he briefly wondered how fun life would be if he and his Lovino settled down and spent the rest of their lives together in a farm...

He couldn't imagine marrying anybody else, after all.

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><p><strong>AN: Phew! Finally, chapter one's done~!**

**Wow, thanks for the feedback, guys! I'm so happy people are interested in this! I hope I didn't disappoint you with this chappie XD**

**As far as updating goes, I think I should be able to once a week. Unless, of course, something happens. Hahaha. But since it's spring break. I might be able to get one in before the week ends. Woo for my no life...**

**Some translations:**

**bésame - kiss me**

**te gusta - do you like?**

**querido - dear**

**cariño - love**

**corazón - heart**

**mundo - world**

**vida - life**

**qué pasa - what's up?**

**espera - wait**

**pero - but**

**fratellino - little brother (Italian)**

**nonno - grandpa (Italian)**

**DISCLAIMER: I. DO. Not. OWN. HE-TA-LI-AAAA~**


	3. Chapter 3

**due**

You'd think that after a lifetime of working as a simple baker in a smalltime town, Lovino would have gotten used to getting up extremely early.

He'd be the type of guy who was wide awake before dawn even considered breaking. While everyone was still snug in their beds, he'd be rolling out the dough and starting the first batch of that day's specialty bread. He'd be calm, passionate, hardworking.

You'd _think_ that.

But alas, no, he was not. For in Lovino's world, morning lasted for fifteen hours. Five? What was five? There was no such thing as five! How dare you suggest such a terrible thing!

His routine consisted of being shaken awake at around eight-ish (which was still too freaking early for his tastes), fixing himself up, dressing in standard baker's clothes (read: a white shirt and loose pants), and working until late into the night when nobody was outside and it was nearly impossible to see anything.

Great, huh?

That was just a standardized routine. If he was lucky, he'd get to do extra chores. Like shopping in the crowded market. Ooh, or maybe working some more in their neighbor's restaurant! Oh, even better! He might get to escort his younger brother in one of his little outings with that potato bastard who was from the—_ah_—upper class.

Psh. Whatever.

None of that mattered right now.

All Lovino could pay attention to was that hand shaking his shoulders and the gentle deep voice in his ear.

"...Lovino...Lovino, _piccolo_, get up..."

"Ngh...hrrn..."

"Lovino...I'm sorry, my boy, I really need you up...if I didn't have to bother you this early, I wouldn't..."

"Mmf..._N_-_Nonno_?" The young man finally forced his eyes open, blinking a few times to adjust his vision. Unfortunately, he found that to be a futile act; there was really nothing to see.

The _hell_?

"Good morning, son. I know, I know. It's dark. But could you please get ready for work? I need you down at the bakery as soon as possible." The voice was coming from his bedside, soft and gentle, as though its owner didn't want to disturb the peaceful night. Now that Lovino thought about it, there appeared to be a lack of...well, _sound_. The place just seemed too quiet. There were no pots clanking in the background, ready for their daily abuse of pasta-making. He couldn't hear the heavy footsteps of a certain someone running around their tiny home, yelling _"Ve~ Let's eat pasta~!"_ on the way.

"Ah? Wha-ah-t time is it?" he yawned, sitting up finally and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. God...he was so freaking_ tired_...

"Oh, I think it's around three...thirty?"

"Eh? What the fu—"

"Language, Lovino."

"—hell am I up at three in the Goddamn morning for?"

Rome suddenly laughed, reaching out blindly to pet his grandson's head. After being swatted off—which he only smiled at—he stood up and stretched, running a large hand through his brown, wavy locks. "Get dressed and come down to the bakery, _piccolo_. Make sure you're wearing your nice shirt, okay?"

And then he left, leaving no room for any questions or complaints. Groaning, Lovino forced himself out of the comfort of his warm, cotton sheets and felt around for the string attached to the lone lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The light—albeit very dim and poor—illuminated his simple but homey bedroom.

The room itself wasn't very large. Two beds topped with random assortments of sheets were squished along the faded white walls, adjacent to each other. A single wardrobe that used to belong to Grandpa Rome stood at the empty corner nearest to the window. In it held all of the two brother's clothing, which, to be quite honest, wasn't very much to begin with. There was an old wooden desk fit snugly on the wall opposite Lovino's bed, a tiny stool accompanying it. In the center of the room was a moth-eaten gray rug. Everything, from the cold cement floor to the worn-down walls to the chipped ceiling, was aged. The only thing that was relatively new was the light bulb.

As Lovino crossed over to get his 'uniform' from the closet, he couldn't help double-take when he noticed a lack of little brother on the second bed. _Weird._ Did that mean Feli was already up before him? Before three-thirty? Oh, God, what was the world coming to? Next thing you know, they'd be calling pasta evil...

"That would be so fucking scary."

Surprised at the words that had just suddenly escaped his lips, Lovino vigorously shook his head. He must _really_ be out of it. Damn mornings. With that in mind, he opened the wardrobe door to get out his best white shirt.

* * *

><p>"Did you wrap up the rolls yet?"<p>

"I'm doing it right now."

"Dracul, could you please bring these boxes to the car?"

"Of course."

"I don't have room to set these down!"

"Just move the bread then!"

"To _where_?"

"Hey, Rome, I don't think we'll have enough room to fit all this in the car..."

"_Dios mio_..."

Chaos. It was absolute _chaos_. Flour was all over the counters, used pans were thrown haphazardly here and there, and breads upon breads littered the table. Thank God they were still closed. Otherwise, they would have probably driven away all their customers, maybe scaring most of them into never coming back.

Hell hath no fury like a busy bakery.

"Well, just pack whatever you have done. We're running late as it is," Rome sighed tiredly, wiping his brows with the back of his hand. He grabbed four baskets and hurried out the door, dreading the problem concerning space that he now had to sort out on top of everything else. Behind him in the bakery, Lovino was hastily transferring the freshly-baked rolls into three small baskets.

"_Shit_!" he hissed when his hand came in contact with the extremely hot tray. Swearing, he finished tossing the last few pastries into the final basket just as their Romanian neighbor came back in.

"Can I take those?" he asked as he quickly approached the baker, glancing around for any other packaged good he might have missed.

"Yeah, yeah, they're ready," grumbled Lovino, his nerves already at their limit. First he was told to get up at three. Then he had to bake about twelve different kinds of pastries (which would have normally taken him until noon to create) in an hour-and-a-half. And now, his hand was red from the recent burn, which will no doubt be pretty painful when it set in. He was grumpy normally anyway...all of this was just icing on the fucking cake.

"You might wanna run that under some cold water," remarked the strawberry-blonde over his shoulder as he hastened back out into the cold, dark morning. It seemed that, from what Lovino could see through the display window, Rome was having trouble forcing the last few baskets into the back of the car. He visibly groaned when Dracul joined him with three more.

Lovino rolled his eyes and turned around to tend to his aching hand. Ah, well... It wasn't like he'd never been burned before. But it had been a long time since he'd screwed up like that.

Great. Now he felt like a shitty baker.

"Fuck my life..."

It took about another thirty minutes—plus two little squabbles and five overturned baskets—before the trio was all set and ready to go. Dawn had just about broken, and the little rays of light coming from the horizon made Lovino sigh; he could _see_ again...

"So, Nonno, where are we going?" he called from his seat in the back of the vehicle beside their long-time neighbor. Dracul, for his part, was leaning against the window, eyes shut. Not that he was actually sleeping.

"Didn't I tell you?"

"Fuck no. You didn't say shit."

It was a sign of how well Rome knew his grandson that he did not even pay much attention to the profanities thrown his way. If anything, he only sympathized with the poor boy for having had to start the day in a less-than-pleasant manner.

"Oh...well, a man from uphill sent a message that he would be having a special gathering today...and apparently, his son is a big fan of ours."

"Oh?" Uphill? That meant whoever their customer was also happened to be part of the upper, upper class. When one said 'uphill', they might as well have declared, _"Yeah, these folks have more money than five of our towns combined, so you better play fucking nice."_

"I'm counting on you two boys to help me with this," Rome said brightly, but there was no doubt about the warning undertones in his voice that plainly told them they better not make him regret doing so.

"Not to worry, sir. We'll work the best we can," replied Dracul with a sincere grin, glancing over at the uninterested Italian who had crossed his arms at the remark.

"_Grazie_, Dracul... And Lovino? You'll be good, won't you?"

"Humph."

"Lovino?"

"Whatever."

Rome just sighed.

Dracul had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing, but could do nothing to stop the corners of his mouth from curving up into a tell-tale smile. Lovino, who had curiously turned to his friend at his sudden silence, smirked in an oddly-pleased way.

Dracul had always lived next to them, it seemed. When they had moved to the quiet suburban town of Hetalia as infants, the Hedervary family had quickly welcomed them with open arms. So really, Feliciano and Lovino had pretty much grown up with two other siblings. Elizaveta, the eldest child, was a strong-willed, independent, and extremely beautiful young woman. She ran the only restaurant in town, _A Serpenyő_, along with a few choice workers (read: her best friends). After finding out Rome was on his own caring for his two infant grandsons, she had actually taken up the role as their foster mother despite not having a mother herself. Every time Lovino closed his eyes and remembered those nights filled with awful thunderstorms and terrifying nightmares, he could only hear that soft, twinkling voice of a ten-year-old girl, cooing to them, _"Sleep, sleep, Feli...Sleep, sleep, Lovi...Tomorrow, we can play again...But now, sleep, sleep, my babies..."_

They were practically one family. Which was why they didn't mind helping each other in times such as these when they were short several workers and could not afford to hire new ones. Dracul especially, since he wasn't as busy as Elizaveta, or as enthusiastic about the restaurant. He preferred working with Rome since it kept him away from his sister (who he had a "cat-and-dog" relationship with) and gave him an excuse to spend some time with Lovino and Feliciano. Mostly the former, though; Feli was almost always about with his best friend Ludwig Beilschmidt, a local nobleman. And Dracul _was_ particularly fond of the older Italian...

Wait...speaking of Feliciano...

"Hey...why wasn't Feli at home?"

"Hmm? Oh! Well, your brother decided to spend the night at the Beilschmidt's. He—ah—fell asleep and Ludwig, praise that boy, was kind enough to let him stay the—"

"YOU LEFT FELI ALONE WITH THE POTATO BASTARD?" roared Lovino angrily, attempting to rise from his seat in the moving car, much to the horror of his grandfather. "_DIOS MIO_! HE PROBABLY GOT_ RAPED_ BY THAT KRAUT!"

"Lovino Vargas! _SIT BACK DOWN_!" Rome desperately turned his head around for a brief moment to glower at the furious boy. If there was something he was a hundred percent sure of, it was the fact that the metal-deathtrap they were currently riding on was anything but safe. Had it not been the only one available in such short notice, he would've told the owner he'd much rather ride a blind horse.

"Lovino!" cried Dracul sharply as the car suddenly rattled over the bumpy road. "You can yell without standing!"

When he received no other reply besides a heated glare, the strawberry-blonde scowled and forcibly yanked his friend down. Unfortunately, Lovino chose that same exact moment to lose his balance and, as a result, landed on the other man's lap with an "_oof_!"

"Comfy?" teased Dracul from underneath the Italian, rubbing slow circles on the small of his back. Growling, the latter pushed himself up with a huff, swatting the snickering Romanian on the way.

Had he not kept his back turned as he returned to his seat, Lovino might have noticed the longing in his friends eyes as he observed him.

"Bastard."

"You enjoyed that. Don't deny it."

"Fuck you."

"Mmm, maybe later~"

"You little son of a—"

As the two playfully bickered (well, on Dracul's part at least), Rome found himself unable to rid of that adoring gaze in his mind. Did that mean...?

_Dracul...you wouldn't..._

* * *

><p>It was absolutely<em> beautiful<em>.

Large, gorgeous trees with the most vibrant of colors lined the long pathway to the mansion. In front of the grand house was a magnificent fountain that could've easily passed as a waterfall. Flowers of all kinds surrounded them, circling the curved driveway. Beyond the mansion, several acres worth of green, green grass stretched on and on, a few stables and chicken-coops scattered here and there. The entire property was clearly worth more than Hetalia and all the neighboring towns combined.

"We're here..." murmured Rome as they approached the glorious fountain. However, instead of following the curved pathway, he drove the car off to the side and further down a small dirt road until they reached a figure that was waving calmly at them. He easily pulled into the space the man directed them to, letting out a relieved breath when they came to a halt. Thank Heaven they were finally _there_...

"How was the trip, Rome?" came a heavily-accented voice as the elderly (but still technically hot and fit) man opened the car door. Outside, the weather was surprisingly pleasant; misty clouds covered enough of the sun to keep them all from burning to a crisp, yet let enough rays shine through to warm their bodies up in a relaxing way. The winds blew softly against the trees, the breeze a welcome sensation. It was enough to ease even Lovino, who had just clambered out of the God-forsaken metal-machine and was now stretching his arms as he made his way over to where Rome stood.

"Not completely unbearable. How are you, Aluino?"

"The same as always," chuckled the black-haired Hispanic. He silently examined the other two boys with friendly eyes, sending each of them a simple smile. "_Hola_!"

"Hello."

"...hmph..."

"My name's Aluino! And you are...?"

"Dracul, nice to meet you..."

"...Lovino..."

"Well then, Dracul and Lovino...are you ready for some fun?"

'Some fun' turned out to be 'a shitload of work' instead. Not that they didn't see it coming. Because really, 'fun' and being a worker in a poor community never really mixed. You were either having the time of your life, throwing gold coins around like they were confetti, or working from dawn until dusk in back-breaking labor, watching others have_ fun_ with money you could only ever dream of having. Never both, though. That was impossible.

Aluino was the perfect example of someone who could work and work and work until his hands bled without so much as batting an eyelash. Somehow, he managed to keep an easy-going half-smile on his face that did not betray his thoughts, whatever they might be. Lovino didn't get so much as a warning when he was suddenly ushered passed the giant wooden door and into what appeared to be a kitchen.

A kitchen that also happened to be just as big (if not bigger) than town square.

Chigi...

"Is this like a fucking castle, or something?" he croaked, already-wide eyes growing even wider as he took in the many ovens, stoves, ice-boxes, and vegetable-slash-fruit crates that littered the chamber. Who knew what the many shelves aligning all four walls had in store? The finest china? Expensive crystal-clear glasses? He'd never even known half of these things existed, but here they were now! Oh, _Dios_, this was like any chef's dream come true.

"I wouldn't be surprised," laughed Dracul as he openly admired the centuries-old designs and paneling that made it very clear the owners were of Spanish descent. As impressed as he was, he still couldn't compare to the rare display of pure excitement evident in his Italian neighbor's olive eyes.

"I'm afraid we won't be spending a lot of time in here," Aluino admitted apologetically from behind them. He then called out in an odd language too quick to decipher. Judging from the immediate response he received, it was clearly an order.

It didn't take long before all the baskets that had been compacted inside the car were suddenly relocated to the large island in the center of the monster-kitchen. It took even less time to move them into their respective wooden serving-plates, each one with unique, intricate patterns adorning the edges. The cooks, for their part, were very pleasant people. They had such a calm and relaxed easy-going attitude, yet Lovino didn't doubt that they knew what they were doing.

"While they're setting up, could you guys help me bring some bread and cinnamon rolls to the sitting room?" asked Aluino over his shoulder as he rolled up the grey sleeves of his shirt and scrubbed his hands clean in the sink nearest to them.

"Of course they will!" boomed a voice from behind that caused all three to jump, startled. Rome had finished unloading the car and now threw an arm around his grandson's shoulder. "Remember to wash your hands, Lovino!"

"Ch-chigi! I'm not a fucking baby, dammit!"

"Heaven forbid any child have _that_ vocabulary!"

Lovino scowled at the comment, but did not justify it with an angry retort. Instead, he focused his energy cleaning the remains of dough from his fingernails that he had missed from that hectic morning, elbowing Dracul as he playfully nudged him on the hips with his own. After they had dried up, Aluino was quick to hand them their respective plates.

Coincidentally enough, Lovino would be serving banana-nut bread.

Antonio's favorite...

His face flushed almost instantly the Spaniard came to mind, and he quickly bowed his head. _Damn_ it. He had been trying to keep those thoughts pushed all the way to the very, very, _very_ back of his head all day! Now every single memory—every single touch and kiss and hug and _'te amo_!'—resurfaced and clouded his entire mind. He could visibly see that heartwarming smile, those adoring, love-filled eyes that stared straight through his many protective layers and into the vulnerable, lonely soul that was him, Lovino Vargas.

"You okay?" whispered Dracul as they fell into step behind Aluino. Apparently, even in his semi-conscious, Antonio-foggy state, he had managed to follow the other two men out the kitchen and into a very long, very wide hallway. Had he not been so preoccupied, he would have spent the majority of the time admiring the hand-crafted cedar walls and Renaissance paintings.

"'M fine, bastard..." Lovino huffed, looking away pointedly, red still coating his cheeks. Seeing Aluino disappear in front (no doubt from turning into the corner up ahead), the young baker made to follow him.

He needed to focus. Focus focus _focus_! It was time to work. Work was _necessary_... _Stop_ thinking about him! There was no way in _hell_ he could concentrate if he kept his mind centered on—

"—Antonio!"

Lovino gasped despite himself as he caught sight of curly brown locks and a pair of very familiar green eyes. Instinctively, he ducked behind the nearest object big enough to shield him from view, which so happened to be an antique chest. His heart pounded relentlessly in his ears, more heat rushing up to his neck, to his face. Considering he was shaking like crazy, it was a miracle he still hadn't spilled the contents of his tray onto the polished floor. Fortunately, nobody noticed his little panic attack.

Lovino chanced a peek.

He couldn't see everything, but from what he could tell, Antonio was definitely _not_ alone.

Because if he _was_, there really _wouldn't_ be a blonde chick leaning up against him on the couch with her head on his shoulder, now _would_ it?

Chest tightening considerably, the small Italian kept his eyes trained on the figures surrounding his...his_ boyfriend_. A small voice in the back of his mind yelled at him to stop. Stop before he saw (or heard) something that was not meant for him to ever come across. But he shook his head vigorously, hoping to clear up his thoughts. He did his best to ignore that feeling of foreboding, the ache in his heart.

Besides, he had no reason to feel that way. Why should it matter to him if that bastard happened to have a pretty friend that he didn't know about?

He didn't care...right?

_Right?_

"Aluino! Come, my boy!" a man (no doubt an elderly guy) spoke loudly, his voice deep and warm and somehow calming. There was a shuffling of feet and the sounds of heavy footsteps upon the glass-like floor.

"Yes, Boss?"

"Go on, Antonio!"

"_Sí_!" And from where Lovino crouched, he saw—as much as he refused to believe it—the Spaniard's arm reach out and pull the blonde girl even closer to him until no space was left between their two bodies. He blanched, shoulders sagging, the ringing in his ears still there, but muffled until it was just background noise. He couldn't think, couldn't feel. Right now, nothing else in the entire world existed except annoyingly cheerful, obnoxious, oblivious, childishly innocent Antonio.

"Aluino, meet my beautiful fiancée, Bella!"

Lovino was out the back door before the banana-nut bread even touched the ground.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: MOTHAFUCKA UPDATED! WHAA?**

**...sorry...I'm tired...I have some crap to do at school tomorrow on a SATURDAY. Ugh. **

**I know I said once a week, but whatdyaknow, I get really busy right after I'm all "Yay! Update! Yay!"**

**Psh. Yes, so sorry for the wait. I most definitely did not give this fic up! I have the plot all ready to go! I just need to write them down...**

**On another note, I was all YouTubing Spamano and I came across a video about sexy!Romano that I personally thought was hot. XD It's like 'Romano Likes his Bass Down Low' or something like that. **

**Yes...**

**As far as characters go, here's a bit about them:**

**Aluino (Mexico); his name means 'noble friend'**

**Dracul (Romania); means 'dragon'. **

**My reason for this last one's 'cause Vlad was overused and totally predictable. Nothing against it, of course, just I didn't want to stereotype Romania with vampires. Or Vlad. (Also, now that I think about it, there's a reference in here, too. Free hugs from Dracul if you guess right!)**

**It's still Spamano, baby! But...shall there be conflict? RomanoXRomania? Maybe...XD**

**Translations:**

**piccolo - (Italian) apparently, it's a pet name for a little boy..._apparently_...**

**due - two (Italian)**

**_A Serpenyő_ - The Frying Pan (Hungarian) lol, I'm sorry, I had to...**

**Well, then, hasta la pasta~!**


	4. Chapter 4

**tres**

"Lovi...oh! _Lovi_!"

A laugh.

Arms wound around his sweaty neck, pulling him closer and closer towards that warm, perfect body. The legs wrapped around his waist somehow managed to tighten even more. A feat, considering they were already squeezing the life out of him. Oh, but who _cared_? There was no pain. Not in their love. All Antonio felt were warmth and passion and desire and_ need_.

What could he have possibly done in all his twenty-two years of living that made the gods so very pleased to bless him with this magnificent human being? Was he some sort of _hero_ in one of his past lives?

Surely nobody was allowed to feel_ this_ elated. _This_ happy.

"Lovi...you are so, _so_ beautiful..."

"And you're a bastard," Lovino chuckled lowly, bringing their lips together for the millionth time that evening. Unlike the others, though, this was only brief and fleeting. Then, shocking the confused Antonio into stopping completely, he grinned. "_Ti amo, Tonio_."

He awoke with a start.

For several minutes, he just remained lying there, on his double-king-sized bed, sheets tangled at his feet. His entire body, soaked with perspiration, continued to tremble just like he had in his little fantasy. The room was still very dark, but not enough to leave him completely blind.

With a heavy sigh, he slowly sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. His eyes were unfocused as all thoughts returned back to the star of last night's dream.

And, y'know, the majority of all his dreams.

He hadn't stopped thinking about Lovino ever since they had met all those years ago. Every single day, he'd spent several hours at a time with just him in his mind; what was he doing? How was he? Did he miss him? Was he mad at him? (Antonio could never tell, after all).

Did he still love him?

That was always worrisome to imagine. The time in between their meeting days was the worst, though. Who knew if Lovi had met someone else while they were apart, someone he was _much_ more interested in? What if, in those days they were devoid of each other, he realized Antonio really _wasn't_ worth it?

It wasn't as though he could always be right by his side, as much as he wanted to. In fact, he'd want nothing more than to turn his back on his boring life as the son of arguably the richest man in the province and live forever and ever with his darling Italian boyfriend in the small rural town of Hetalia.

Then, they could get married! They could kiss and kiss and kiss all day long without worrying about anything~! Oh, that would be so nice! They could fix up the back room and make it their secret little hideout. Everybody else, keep out!

"Lovi~" Antonio cooed as he imagined the younger male scowling at him as he walked up the altar, arms crossed and face tomato-red. Wearing a dress. A cute, frilly, slightly-pink wedding dress with little white buds shaped like tomatoes decorating the corset...with a little bow...and...skin-tight gloves that reached up to his forearms...showing off his creamy, _flawless_ skin...

...when did he start drooling?

The soft knocking on his bedroom door signaled the end to his imaginary ceremony (which would hopefully soon be a reality if he played his cards right). Whoever said being a nobleman was all about luxury and basking in gold clearly had no idea how much crap they had to put up with to be that way in the first place. No work meant no money, and that applied to _everybody_, not just to the 'working class'.

Sure, he didn't have to do any bad, back-breaking labor. Sure, he'd never spent a day hungry, or cold, or aching all over. Sure, he'd never really _worked_.

It wasn't like he chose to be spoiled rotten; he just didn't want to ruin his parents' happiness. He was basically their only son. Their only joy in life.

He had Alvarez to thank for that.

His older brother—the _real_ first born—left the Fernandez Carriedo household the moment he was of legal age. Even though his parents attempted to keep him safely unaware, Antonio knew for a fact that he had been the reason his sibling had run away into the night. No note. No farewells. Just an empty bed, an empty chair at the dinner table...

An empty spot—there, on the left—in the family portrait.

Antonio was seven.

The knocking snapped him out of his thoughts once more. This time, accompanied with a muffled voice.

"Master Antonio? Breakfast is ready, sir. Your father's downstairs waiting for you..."

"Ah..._Sí_! _Gracias_, I'll just get ready now..."

"Of course, sir."

Once the footsteps faded into the distance, the Spaniard let out a tired groan and fell back onto the mattress, staring at the dark, blank ceiling.

God, how he missed Lovi.

He wished he could curl back up and sleep again, and dream. Dream about annoyed, scowling Italians with adorable tomato-cheeks. Dream about holding them in his arms, whispering sweet-nothings until they kissed him in hopes of keeping his mouth shut. Dream about smiling and molding their bodies together, just like they always did, against the dusty wall of the back room.

Then real life would pull him back from his bliss and he'd be more miserable than ever.

So, Antonio rolled off the bed, stretched, and made his way to the spacious bathroom where there would be a hot bath, fresh towels, and a change of clothes waiting, all ready, just. For. Him.

He hated it.

* * *

><p>The first thing Antonio heard when he dragged Dat Ass downstairs was a loud "<em>Buenos días, mijo<em>!" coming from the dining hall. Curious, he followed the voice, wondering what on earth his father was still doing at home. Shouldn't he be out working already?

"_Papá_?" he questioned, poking his head around the large archway that led to the space. Immediately, he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and pull him close against a buff, tall body.

"Tonio!_ Rápido_, son! Wait—" Señor Fernandez paused a moment to circle his son three times, inspecting his appearance. Considering the boy was dressed with the clothes he instructed Aluino to lay out for him that day, he really had no complaints to make. Instead, he grinned, mentally praising his wife's excellent tastes. "_Buena_! Okay, you're ready!"

"R-ready for what,_ Papá_...?" Oh, God. Please let it not be another wardrobe-fitting. _Those_ were another painful six hours he was never going to get back...

"You'll see." Hands firmly gripping his shoulders, Antonio found himself being steered past the long, ornate table that stood proudly in the center of the dining area and into the glass double-doors leading out into the patio overlooking the garden. Outside, the sun was playfully hiding behind wisps of clouds, the breeze moving with the brightly-colored flowers surrounding them. Which were all nothing short of perfect, of course.

The patio was actually one of Antonio's most favorite places to escape to when he needed to breathe. It was always so quiet, so calming. He could walk around on the polished wood, admiring nature and her gifts. He could sit in the cushioned, whicker chair by the single round table, nibbling on a churro or sipping hot chocolate. Whatever he wanted. And then...he could clear his mind—clear out the business plans and the stocks and the talks of his inheritance, all those material _garbage_—and really think about his life. His life...and Lovino...

It always came back to Lovino, didn't it?

"Here he is! Sorry about the wait, _mija_, you know how he likes to sleep!"

And now Antonio blinked back to reality.

He smiled. A real, _natural_ smile.

"Oh!"

There, standing before him, in a green sun-dress and a white headband, was none-other than a long-time friend of his...

"Bella!"

"Toni!" she squealed back, running over to give the man a hug. "Toni! Oh, I missed you!"

"I missed you, too," he replied, feeling much more elated than usual. "How are you, _chica_?"

"I've been doing well! Turns out, I'm really good at making chocolate!"

"Oh, seriously? That's wonderful!"

"Thank you! And what about you? What have you been up to?"

"Ah..._mi padre_ is teaching me about his company..."

The two happily babbled on about current (and not so current) goings-on, laughing and "_aww_!"ing every now and then. It was nice for Antonio to finally be able to act like himself. A welcome change for once. Señor Fernandez silently observed them, an unreadable expression on his face.

"—Francis said so, but Gilbert drank it anyway."

"They never change, don't the—"

"Look at you!" boomed the elder man out of nowhere, causing both his son and family friend to jump. "You're perfect for each other! I can't wait for the ceremony!"

The silence lasted all of three seconds.

"¿_Que_?"

"Isn't it obvious? Why, you two are getting married!"

"_WHAT_?"

* * *

><p>Thankfully, Aluino came by later to deliver an urgent message. Señor Fernandez then had to excuse himself, hoping to fix whatever complications had just arisen. That left Antonio and Bella sitting on a stone bench within the garden, both obviously distressed.<p>

"What do we do, Antonio?" whispered the blonde girl with her face buried in her hands. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, voice hoarse under the lump in her throat. In response, her friend abruptly jumped to his feet and began pacing.

"I don't...I don't know, _chica_..." He sounded strained, as though using all his willpower to stay composed and not start losing his mind. His head hurt from all this deep thinking, his heart ached from the news that had unexpectedly been broken to him.

"Wh-what will Lars say? And Lovino?" At that, Antonio paused in his steps, turning slowly around to face the saddened girl. He clenched his fists.

Of course. How could he forget? How could he be so selfish?

Here he was, worrying about _his_ love life, worrying about _his_ unwanted engagement, without even sparing Bella a single thought. She was as much a victim to this arranged marriage as he was, in more ways than one.

After all, Antonio wasn't the only noble with a preference towards the commoners...

"_No sé_..."

"B-but...I was...waiting for Lars to...to..."

"I know. Don't cry, Bella. You're not supposed to cry..."

"What will I tell him?" demanded the young Belgian woman, staring at him with lost, pain-filled eyes. It could only be described as amazing that she hadn't broken down in tears just yet.

"What _can_ we tell them?" the Spaniard smiled weakly, sadly, and he reached out to tuck a strand of golden hair out of his friend's face.

"...We could run away..."

"...Nothing will stop them, Bella. That's the problem. My parents agreed and your parents agreed. We cannot back down. It's _impossible_!" Antonio almost growled, eyes narrowing as he mentally added yet again another reason to dislike his parents' controlling ways.

Toni, read this. Toni, study that. Toni, you need to wear these clothes! It looks proper!

And now it was, _'Toni, you're getting married to Bella because it's good for our company.'_

For his own good _my ass_.

"Is it really?" Bella murmured quietly, drying her eyes as her lips formed her signature cat-like grin. Her companion raised an eyebrow in question.

"What are you planning?"

"It's just...well, nobody said our marriage had to be completely _honest_," she began innocently, clasping her hands together. "I mean, infidelity can't be helped..."

Oh. _Oh_.

"That's true," agreed Antonio after a split-second of silence during which her words slowly sank in. His own mischievous smile quickly came into place as he returned to his seat next to the woman on the bench. "And it really _wouldn't_ be cheating if we both knew about it~"

"Exactly my point."

"Oh, Bella, you truly are one smart _chica_!"

"Hmm. Maybe not. But I _am_ a woman in love. And trust me when I say, I will do anything to stay by Lars's side."

"And I would give up the world for Lovi!"

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles.

How funny it was...they had just been recently engaged, and yet here they were, vowing their undying love for another person. Heirs of the wealthiest people in the country, falling so hard for a couple of simple workmen in Nowheresville. Agreeing to commit adultery for them. Destroying a marriage that was never meant to be before it even started.

It was hilarious.

* * *

><p><em>"I'm so proud of you, Antonio!" exclaimed Señor Fernandez over a cup of hot chocolate. He placed a hand on his heart as he beamed at the wonderful couple sitting on the couch opposite his and his wife's.<em>

_"Ahahahaha, gracias, Papá..."_

_"But now is a good time to spread the good news, yes?" Still with that happy smile, the elderly man waved at an approaching figure. "Aluino! Come, my boy!"_

_Their Mexican assistant was over in an instant, grinning pleasantly at them all. "Yes, Boss?"_

_"Go on, Antonio!"_

_"Si!" Chuckling, the Spaniard reached an arm out and pulled the blonde closer, willing himself not to laught at the absurdity of it all. "Aluino, meet my beautiful fiancée, Bella!"_

_Distinctly, he could've sworn he heard something clanking in the distance...like..somebody dropped a heavy metal object..._

_Huh..._

_"Oh? But I already know her..."_

* * *

><p>When Bella awoke in the morning, two days after the 'engagement', she was quite surprised to find Antonio staring anxiously into a mirror in the corner of the room, twisting and turning as he tried to view his ensemble in all imaginable angles. Several times, he would attempt to smoothen out his simple red button-up shirt and tug on his loose trainers, only to readjust it until no change was actually made.<p>

"'Morning there. What's with the clothes, Toni?"

The man in question jumped about a foot in the air, swiveling on the spot to give her an almost guilty expression. "Ah, _buenos días_, Bella...how are you this morning?"

The blonde attempted a smile but failed almost instantly. Turning her head to the side, she said nothing.

Yesterday didn't really turn out the way she'd hoped.

The night of their talk in the garden, Antonio's parents had been very insistent that she'd spend the night, in her new fiancé's room, nonetheless. Señora Carriedo had assured her that their son was a respectively good boy, and would do absolutely_ nothing_ that would put his parents to shame. ("Toni'll just ask to cuddle! I'm not even worried about you both!") Naturally, she agreed without giving the matter a second thought, and that evening, they smiled to each other from opposite ends of the large bed, bid their good nights, turned around, and fell asleep.

Why would they do anything anyway?

Little did they know that the following morning would bring about all new sorts of problems. Specifically, the flaws in their plan that they never bothered to consider.

It started out with the visit to Bella's house.

Because even though her parents knew about (read: helped arrange) the marriage, they still had to be formally told about it. So, the (un)happy couple enjoyed a nice, four-hour long journey to the van Rijn estate up in the mountains.

The actual meeting with the parents was simple enough; they welcomed them upon arrival, shaking hands, offering warm hugs, the usual friendly greetings. They were extremely excited (and pleased) to be informed about their daughter's engagement to a long-time family friend.

Everything seemed perfect.

Then...Lars happened.

At around noon, as they were all enjoying a lovely, delicious meal out by the lake, a message was received that a certain blonde blacksmith was coming over to deliver some tools that had needed repair. Bella immediately excused herself to go "clean up a bit," leaving a half-empty plate behind her.

Indeed, when the Dutchman arrived an hour later, he was quickly met by a gorgeous, ecstatic young woman in a new, pretty lavender dress with blonde ringlets held together by a white bow. Her face was all made up, her green eyes even brighter than usual.

Lars was unsurprisingly captivated as she led him out into the empty courtyard, Antonio following close behind. The _true_ couple sat on the edge the crystal fountain, hands clasped together.

Romantic, right?

And then...

_"Hey...Bells...I, uh, heard something weird when I got here..."_

_"Hmm? What was it?"_

_"Well...your dad was saying...that you were engaged to that Carriedo asshole...Ahaha...how stupid is that?"_

Crash and burn time, baby.

The argument that followed wasn't a pretty one. Both sides were becoming less and less composed, their voices doing just the complete opposite. It wasn't long until Antonio literally found himself in between a shouting match.

_"Why would you marry him? I thought you loved me!"_

_"I do! But I told you, we're going to pretend! We can still be together!"_

_"It's not the same! I don't mind keeping our relationship low profile now, but I am not a cheater!"_

_"Lars! Don't say it like that! I said it's not the same!"_

_"Bella, it doesn't matter if both of you agree with it! It's still cheating!"_

That was the first time they realized that they _really_ didn't think their plan through. Neither of them ever expected that their lovers would actually oppose the idea. It had seemed like a given that they would be all in for it.

Lars had left, shoving Antonio to the side as he passed him. Bella was so shocked by the sudden turn of events that she remained rooted to the spot until they heard the sound of the blacksmith's rusty old car driving away. At that point, tears were streaming down Bella's face, mascara smearing all over.

And that was day one of their engagement.

Back to present time, Antonio sighed as he watched his friend's continued stillness. He walked over to the bed and leaned across to touch her cheek lightly. "It's okay...he still loves you, you know..."

"...I'm fine, Tonio...thanks..." She smiled now, resting a delicate hand over his.

"I'm here for you, _chica_!"

Laughing, the Belgian drew her knees to her chest, tugging lightly on Antonio's collar. "What's with this get-up?"

"Ahaha~ Well, I like to keep things simple when I visit Lovi~ I don't know what he'd think of me if I wore 'proper' clothes!"

"Hasn't he seen you in them yet?"

"Once...But it made him sad...So, I try not to wear them anymore." The Spaniard frowned, remembering the insecurity showing plainly on his boyfriend's face as he examined the coat Antonio had carelessly thrown aside upon entering the back room one day. When he had asked what was wrong, Lovino had dryly told him that not even his bed was worth that much, so he should really stop treating his clothes like shit before he beat some sense into him. His words were said in a joking manner, but the pain and shame in his eyes told him more. Needless to say, he vowed never to make his lover feel that inferior ever again.

"He must mean a lot to you."

"_Chica_, if only you knew."

* * *

><p>It was almost time!<p>

Antonio raced downstairs (after bidding his 'fiancée' farewell, of course) practically tripping over his own feet as he hurried to the door. _Finally!_ He would be reunited with his Lovi in just a few hours! He could hardly wait, his heart was already pounding in anticipation!

His hand barely grazed the cool, golden doorknob when a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. Spinning around, he was met face-to-face with one amused _padre_.

_Dios mio._

"And where are you going, _mijo_?" he asked with a fatherly grin, leaning against the door to keep his son from leaving.

"Ah..._Hola, _Papá__! Me and Aluino are going to see town today..."

"Ah, is it Thursday already?"

"_Sí_!" Of course it was! How could anybody forget sacred Lovi-days?

"Hmm...well, I'm sorry to say, _chico_, but you'll be staying home today," said Señor Fernandez, giving his boy a little squeeze. Had he known that he was now treading in dangerous waters, he would have probably been much, much more careful of his actions.

"¿_P-por qué_?"

How odd...Antonio's voice sounded so...weird.

"Because I want you to spend these next few weeks with your future bride!"

"...I can spend time with her when I get back," the younger male replied with an uncharacteristically icy tone, coldly regarding his father. He could handle being bossed around, told how to act and talk and think. He could handle dressing up in what he thought was ridiculous and unnecessary clothing. He could handle boring studies and books he never bothered to care about. He could do all that, no problem.

But when you brought Lovino into the mix, when he was the one being compromised...

Antonio would have_ none_ of it.

"Now, now, _mijo_, don't get ahead of yourself. You are staying here with Bella, and I want you to show her around the house!"

"_Padre_, I am going to town."

"No, Toni, you are not."

"I am."

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, you listen to me at once!"

"I have!" screamed the distressed young man, pounding a fist to the door. It rattled from the impact, along with a elderly Spaniard who had been leaning against it. "All the time, _todos los días_! But _por favor_, I cannot miss the trip today!"

"And why are these trips to town so important to you? What's in there?" His father's was leaning over him now, glaring. All traces of his initial cheerfulness wiped away.

Antonio swallowed. "Because...because I like it there..."

"That's it?"

"It's a pretty town."

"_Dios_, Toni, all this just because the place is pretty?" Señor Fernandez relaxed, rubbing his face with a calloused hand. He shook his head. "Look, you just got engaged. I want you to spend as much time as you can _really_ getting to know Bella. Then, when you're both comfortable with each other, you can take her out to see the town."

"Then let me take her see it now." He was getting desperate. He'd do anything if it meant being able to see his Lovi. _Anything_.

"No, Antonio. You are not going out today and that is final.

"But what if Bella wanted to see—"

"Then it's still a 'no'. This is for both of your sakes."

"_Papá_—"

"That. Is. It. Toni! Go back to your room _ahora_!"

He wanted to yell. Wanted to let out a string of curses, smash a few vases, rip the curtains, maybe even punch a hole in the wall. Consequences seemed less and less intimidating until he found that he really didn't give a damn anymore. Yet his body seemed to have a mind of its own; it simply refused to move. His entire figure shook, whether from rage or something else entirely. As much as his instinct told him to just book it and go meet his only love, he couldn't. Instead, he nodded numbly and walked, trance-like, back up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him so hard, he heard something break.

He didn't care if the whole door did.

"Antonio? Is everything alright?" One look at his face and Bella instantly knew that something had gone terribly wrong. Without speaking a single word. the Spaniard sat himself down on the edge of the bed with a blank expression. Almost as soon as he realized that he was not daydreaming and, in fact, back in his room, _away_ from Lovino, did he finally lose his cool.

Burying his face in his shaking hands, he began to ruthlessly berate himself.

"_Stupido! Stupido, stupido, stupido_!"

"Antonio!" gasped Bella, and she bolted out from her spot peeking out of the bathroom door. She rushed over to her friend's side and crouched in front of him, rubbing his forearms in a comforting manner. "Shh...shh...calm down, Toni..."

"I am so pathetic!" he moaned into his palms, voice so muffled that it was hard to make out exactly what he was saying. "He'll hate me! And then he'll stop...he'll give me up...I blew it..."

"Don't say that!"

"He will! I know Lovi! He's not very self-confident. He'll think I'm not interested anymore and-and—"

Oh, good God, he really was an idiot, wasn't he? Why didn't he just push his father out of the way and run, run to the car and _leave_? Nobody would've gone after him. And he would've an excuse to stay with Lovino.

_Mier. Da._

"I think we need to calm down," Bella softly stated, pushing the man backwards until he was lying down with his head on the pillows. She tugged the covers from the foot of the bed and threw it over her companion's body. "Sleep for a while, Toni, and then we'll sort things out later."

"But, Lovi—"

"I'm sure Lovino will understand if you can't make it today. What does he usually do if you don't, anyway?"

"...we've never missed one of our days before..." whispered Antonio from underneath the covers, curling up into a ball. He sounded so, so broken that Bella's own heart shattered into pieces.

"I'm sorry...I didn't..." What could she say? She'd never seen him in such a miserable state. Even when stress-levels were at breaking point, even when everything just seemed to all go wrong, he still managed to keep that silly, carefree smile on his face.

So what happened to him now?

"...but...maybe..." The sudden sound coming from the unmoving lump made her start slightly. Tilting her head, she strained her ears to catch that soft, helpless whisper. "...maybe he won't wait that long... and...I could make it up to him next time..."

"Yes. That's true. Think positive thoughts, Toni, okay? Lovi will be fine." The blonde carefully slipped into bed as well (on her side, of course) and she sighed, thinking of the mess one little word could create. The cause of this confusing chain reaction.

_Engagement._

She never realized how destructive it really was.

"Lo siento, Lovi...I hope you're okay..."

But Antonio wouldn't know.

He wouldn't know that a figure would be waiting, carrying a basket of banana-nut bread, by the door of the back room ten minutes before noon.

He wouldn't know that same figure would sit there, sobbing into his knees, when Antonio's absence confirmed his worst fear.

He wouldn't know Lovino stayed there, still waiting for him, until sun-down when he couldn't see anything, and nobody could see him.

He wouldn't know why on that night, he felt like he lost a part of his heart.

He wouldn't know.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Orz **

**This was one fatass chappie. UGH. **

**So, just to clarify, I'm not going for incest!BellaXLars. This should be explained later, but I'm not too sure when. As for the italicized part, that was more of what happened right before Lovi overheard that...thing...**

**Yeah. **

**ALSO, I forgot to say, this story does happen in the 'old' days. I can't give an exact time period, but just know it's when really simple cars were around and lightbulbs and crap, but absolutely NO cell phones or computers or Apple. **

**The beginning was...my hint at sexiness... I can't write M for my life, so don't expect any smut. Sowwie...**

**I'm also sorry for the sad!Spain on this one, but I kinda needed him to be like that...even if it was OOC...wah. And I apologize for grammar/spelling mistakes.**

**The Mr. Fernandez and Mrs. Carriedo thing was 'cause apparently, the father's surname goes first, then the mothers, so Carriedo only works for the señora, but not the señor. This is exactly why I failed my Spanish exam...**

**Thanks for the feedback, guys, I really appreciate it! It makes me feel happy~ *SOB***

**Some translations:**

**buenos dias - good morning**

**chico(a) - boy/girl (btw, I've basically made Bella's nickname 'chica'. Pfft.)**

**mijo(a) - my son/daughter (it's a term of endearment)**

**rapido - hurry (something along those lines)**

**¿por qué? - why?**

**dios mio - my god **

**mierda - shit (lol XD)**

**todos los días - everyday**

**tres - three (Spanish) **

**Now...**

**Adios~!**


	5. Chapter 5

**four**

Thud. _Thud_.

"Er...Lovino?"

Smack. THUD.

"What'd that poor dough do to you?"

"...stupid..._motherfucking_...goddamn..."

_**THUD!**_

"Shit!"

"Karma's a bitch, isn't she?" Dracul cheerfully remarked as he watched his friend duck underneath the counter to retrieve the now-sullied ball of dough. Grumbling to himself, Lovino warily eyed what was supposed to be that day's specialty bread, before tossing it carelessly into an empty bowl.

"I guess that's my food tonight," he sighed, too dejected to even be angry. (Which was a first.) His week had already been a hundred percent complete _shit_. First, he was forced to work nonstop for several days. Then he had to babysit his _fratellino_ (which included all the necessary Potato Bastards he had to deal with.) His boyfriend of five years had apparently been cheating on him—and he was engaged, that damn fucker—with some rich blonde chick named Bella who he'd never had the good fortune to meet. Oh, and not to mention, he'd been abandoned, left in the cold in that goddamn alleyway, by the one person he had actually believed loved him.

Never mind. The week had been a hundred-and-_ten_ percent complete shit.

"A little unsanitary, don't you think?" the Romanian boy laughed nervously, reaching for the bowl.

"Money's tight as it is, asshole. I can't waste anything." And it was true; he wasn't pleasantly oblivious as Feliciano. He understood what those looks meant—the looks Grandpa Rome had on when he counted the day's earnings.

Grocery shopping very nearly killed him.

"Well, why not let me buy it?" Dracul picked up the dough and tossed it from one hand to the other. Immediately, it was confiscated from his hold, causing him to pout slightly.

"And fuck up our reputation? Hell no."

"But getting food poisoning is completely okay?"

Lovino growled. "Look, just fuck off and let me work! Why are you here anyway?"

"My bitch of a sister wanted me to ask if you could help with the restaurant," replied Dracul with an eye-roll. "Which I don't understand since there's hardly any people coming around anyway." He walked around a bit, coming to a halt behind his friend, and promptly wrapped his arms around the other's waist. Burying his face in the smooth neck in front, he let out a content sigh.

Lovino, on the other hand, let out an annoyed hiss.

"Bastard! Get the hell off!"

"Mmm...But it's comfy!"

"Off."

"C'mon! Five more minutes, pleeeaaase?"

_"Aww! No, Lovi, five more minutes, por favor!"_

The Italian flinched, grief that had so far been repressed flooding back through his entire being as he heard the sickeningly familiar voice ringing through his ears. He felt once more the hopelessness and loss and pain and sorrow that had overcame his senses as he sobbed pitifully in the car floor all those days (or were they lifetimes?) ago. He hadn't cried in a long time before that. It shamed him to think that he had fallen apart all because of goddamn love, something he had tried so hard to avoid. He was a fucking _man_, not some whiny sixteen-year-old bitch!

That was the reason he kept away from everyone, why he wouldn't let anyone in. It made him vulnerable. Easy to break.

_This_ just proved his point.

"Lovi~"

_Antonio._

"No!" he cried suddenly, sharply elbowing the blonde away. Who, in turn, promptly clutched at his stomach, emitting out a pained groan. Blinking at the distressed sound, Lovino turned to look back. It seemed, in his panicked state, he hadn't realized just how hard he hit his friend.

Oops.

"I—I told you to move, stupid..."

"I—ah—understand now," wheezed Dracul with a weak smile. Placing a hand on his sure-to-bruise midsection, and wincing at the contact, he nodded towards the doors. "So...you coming to help?"

Outside in the market, Rome found himself idly chatting with the local (female) vendors, swapping information about the latest issue regarding the obvious drop in sales. According to the women, more and more people were abandoning their specialty goods for the Fernandez-Carriedo's simpler, mass-produced merchandise. Well, _that_ would explain why nobody from out of town came by to shop in the local market center anymore.

"I don't know what we're going to do," said the fruits lady, absentmindedly tracing a pattern on her green apron. "They already own most of fields here. I barely make any money even without them competing..."

"But can we blame them for wanting to expand their business?" Rome mused as he stared far off into the distance. The market center seemed quieter than usual. Less crowded and lively. "I would if I could."

"_You_ don't have to worry, though. I heard Fernandez placed quite a large order from your bakery a few days ago."

The elderly Italian laughed almost dryly. "He did, but then I found out from one of his cooks that they were actually creating their own chain of bakeries and restaurants to compete with 'the locals.' Including me."

"Oh, my..." Talk about sneak attacks.

"Ah, but it can't be helped. I just hope my boys find something else to do... My business isn't stable for them anymore..."

"Perhaps you can marry them off? I did that with my eldest a few years back," the lady offered, smiling wistfully at the memory. She twirled a strand of curly hair around her finger, deep in thought, not particularly caring about manning her booth. Since, y'know, there_ was_ a lack of customers.

"I've considered it. With Feli, I'm not too worried. Ludwig's already asked permission for his hand. It's Lovino I fear will be compromised..." Rome chuckled bitterly. He might baby Feliciano, might act like he loved him more, but in reality, there was also something about his eldest grandson that made him irreplaceable. Once you really got to know Lovino, you wouldn't be able to help _but_ adore him. That was, if you could get past the unintentional rudeness, stubborn attitude, and..._impressive_ vocabulary.

Of course he'd be worried about him.

"Hasn't he found someone yet?"

"No. He isn't a very social child. A flirt, yes, just like his grandpa, but I've never seen him really get close to someone..."

"No suitors?"

"No, not that I..." Rome trailed off, his eyes focusing on the young, long-haired brunette who was examining some green vegetable on the booth next to them.

Oh,_ God_.

How could he be so blind?

"If you will excuse me...I need to speak with Elizaveta."

* * *

><p>"How much longer, Aluino?"<p>

"Ah, only a few more minutes, sir. Calm down, though, _sí_?"

"Lo siento, lo siento..."

They were finally in the car. Let me rephrase that: they were finally in the car on their way to town. Where the bakery was at. Where _Lovino_ was at.

Oh, hell yeah.

"Excited?" whispered Bella, smiling softly at the anxious Spaniard perched next to her. Who, in response, absolutely_ beamed_.

"_Sí_! Oh, Bella, I can't wait!" Antonio positively_ radiated_ happiness. Even the pissiest, anti-social mo-fo wouldn't be able to resist grinning at his ecstatic expression.

"I'm guessing you want to meet him alone?"

"Ah...if it isn't any trouble..."

"Oh, don't you worry, Toni! I'll be fine. Aluino'll be with me, won't you, Aluino?" she cheerfully called to the driver, who winked at the rearview mirror.

"Of course!"

The nice thing about being good friends with your assistant was that they were oh-so loyal. Antonio never mentioned his secret affair with Hetalia's baker, not once, and yet somehow, Aluino knew all along. Which would probably explain why he always preferred to park near the alleyway and stay in the car on the Lovi-Days without ever being told to.

What a _nice_ young man...

"Papa said we can stay as long as we want, right?"

"Uh-huh. I told him the sunset's beautiful out here and that you two would probably enjoy seeing it together~"

...what an _amazing thoughtful,_ nice young man.

Bella giggled, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. "Aww, how sweet of you!"

"...Sí...very...sweet..." Antonio held a preoccupied expression, staring with wide eyes out of the car window. The town's gates were visible from their current viewpoint, uncharacteristically left open. (They normally had to show their pass to the gate-keeper.) His heart hammered in his chest as they neared the opening, the only thing blocking him from his precious love. The trip had seemed unbearably endless before, but now that he was only a few feet short of seeing Lovino, he suddenly wished that the ride had been longer, had given him more time to calm down.

He reached out for the decorated box next to him, holding it carefully with his shaking hands.

"Ready, Toni?"

The words remained in the air, unanswered, as they slowly pulled up in front of Hetalia's only bank. Antonio practically flew out, parcel held close, leaving an open door behind him in his wake as he bolted down the alleyway. Sure, it wasn't noon yet, but he couldn't risk being late, even for just a few minutes.

He almost tripped as he turned a corner (thank God nobody saw that), skidding hastily to a stop in front of the back room door.

Alright.

He was here.

It was half-past eleven, thirty minutes before his boyfriend was due. But that was okay. Antonio could wait. He'd wait forever if he had to. Deciding to make himself as comfortable as possible, he leaned against the old door, idly pressing a palm against his upper-left chest. He smiled faintly as he felt his heart's erratic thumping.

_Budum-budum-budum-budum-budum._

Only Lovino could make him feel this way. Could change his entire outlook of life with just a scowl. Why, the boy was pretty much his sole reason for living. What was the world to him if his Lovi wasn't part of it?

There was a rustle off to the side, and his half-lidded eyes immediately snapped right back open. He swiveled around to face the noise, grasping the box even tighter. "Lovi?"

He didn't get a response. No footsteps. No annoyed "tch". No Lovino.

Okay...a little disappointing, but it really wasn't twelve yet. No worries. He had thirty minutes to go, maybe twenty-five. Tops.

Though, there was nothing he could do about the anxiousness. They hadn't seen each other since last week—much, _much_ too long for Antonio's taste. And now that he thought about it, that was the longest they've ever been apart.

((The years before they met didn't count; his life had no meaning back then.))

Normally, he'd hum a song while waiting. Maybe even sing a bit if he felt really happy that day. That was _especially_ rewarding whenever Lovino managed to catch a few lines without him knowing. On those days, their make-out sessions were much more heated and passionate. Not that they weren't already.

Merely thinking about what they would be doing in a few minutes made Antonio's cheeks flush pleasantly. It took all of his willpower to not let out an unmanly squeal as he imagined Lovi unashamedly pressed against him, preferably pinned to the wall-slash-floor. Panting. Gasping his name. Stripping off his shirt. And pants...and...and...

...

_¡Calmáte, Antonio!_

"Ai~!" he groaned, repeatedly slamming his head back against the wall as those beautiful, magnificent mental images simply refused to leave his mind.

Oh, God, he couldn't get excited now. He had to look composed when Lovino saw him. Not writhing on his spot with an embarrassing red face.

Just—he'd just calm down now and patiently wait to ravish his boyfriend _after_ they got inside the back room. He could lose his composure then.

Ah, how many more minutes?

Twenty...fifteen...twelve...

It was dead silent. Which was weird, considering it was Sunday, the day most people were at town. At noon, too. Hmm...

Ten...seven...five...

Had Lovi changed in a week? It seemed pathetic that he'd worry about it, but they _had_ been apart longer than he was used to.

Three minutes...two minutes...one...

Where was he? Shouldn't he be here by now? Surely he'd have wanted to come early as well?

_**Dun! Dun!**_

Twelve.

Antonio glanced left and right, hoping desperately to see a familiar figure in an old, secondhand coat, strolling casually towards him with a basket of banana bread held carelessly in his hand.

But no such figure awaited him.

Alright...maybe Lovino was running late. Everybody had off-days, _sí_? He was probably hurrying to get here at this very moment.

Still, Antonio couldn't help but wonder _why_. Surely _he_ hadn't been the_ only_ one excited for their date. It had been a week. A whole week without the better half of his soul. He'd arrived early because he had assumed Lovino would have done the same. Would have been anxious to see him, too.

So why was he late now, when they needed to see each other the most?

He expected to wait a few minutes. Ten if he was generous.

Then thirty passed by, and he found himself sitting on the ground, back against the door, the box laying next to him. His throat felt dry, his heart ached painfully.

He reacted to the simplest noises, like a small animal listening for their predator to come out and take them away.

The clock struck one, its loud chiming taunting him as if to say, _"One hour! One hour and he's still not here!"_

"Lovi?" he croaked, facing the end of the alleyway where Lovino always showed up. For the umpteenth time, he was met with nothing but air and darkness. "Where are you?" he murmured softly in a broken voice, hugging his knees close to his chest as he buried himself in his arms. Why did it hurt so much? The Italian was only late. Antonio needn't feel bad about it. Frustrated, yes, and maybe a little worried. But why did he feel like he had been abandoned? Like nobody cared about him anymore?

He was...overreacting. It was silly.

So, _so_ silly...

At this point, he was beginning to think that maybe he had mixed his days up and in actuality, it was really Saturday. Because Lovino would never forget. Anything was more logical than _that_.

Antonio didn't know how long he sat there, waiting for someone who was clearly _not_ going to show (not that he'd ever admit that). All he knew was that he could suddenly make out faint footsteps coming from—

"Lovi!" he called, disbelieving, but ecstatic nonetheless. Scrambling to his feet, he snagged his parcel and hurried over to meet his boyfriend, only to stop short when he caught sight of blonde locks instead of cute, wavy brown ones with a certain curl...

"Guess again, Toni," Bella grinned, but at the defeated look in her friend's eyes, it was quickly wiped away.

"Oh...Hola, _chica_... Ah, why are you here?"

"You told me you'd bring Lovino out at four, remember? So I could meet him? Well, it's almost five and you hadn't shown up...so..."

"I-it's almost five?" stammered Antonio, nearly dropping the box in shock. That meant Lovino would have missed their whole 'meeting' completely. Five minutes late, sure...but five _hours_?

"Yes...Uhm, where is Lovi...?"

"He...he's not here yet."

"Yet? Toni..."

"He'll be here, Bella. It's fine; I'll just wait a bit more..."

"Antonio," the Belgian whispered softly, sadly, reaching out to graze her fingertips along the man's cheek. "Sweetie, I don't think he's going to come..."

"_Pero_—"

"Toni. Listen. Nobody's late for five hours to something they actually expected to attend. I'm sure something came up and he just couldn't make it. And I'm sure he's feeling really bad about not seeing you, too..."

There was a silence in which Antonio attempted to process the sad truth in his already-confused mind. Once he did, his eyes turned downcast to rest on his lover's gift that had somehow managed to remain in pristine condition even after all the extensive handling it suffered through. He fidgeted unhappily, never once looking up.

"Hey...how about we get something to eat, huh?" offered Bella kindly, resting a hand on her friend's downturned head. "I saw a really cute restaurant on my way here..."

* * *

><p>Across town in a relatively empty<em> A Serpenyő<em>, Elizaveta Héderváry busied herself wiping down empty tables over and over again.

Not that they were filthy or anything...it was just there was a lack of people to serve.

Ever since the Fernandez-Carriedo restaurant chain launched, there had been less and less people coming to dine in her small-town eatery. She'd noticed her regulars frequented less often, some not showing up at all anymore. New customers were rare and scarce, and those that were never returned for a second meal. The only thing that kept her business alive were the loyal townsfolk and a handful of city-dwellers who had grown accustomed to her cooking and refused to eat elsewhere.

Today, however, the place seemed even more deserted than usual. It was extremely odd since it was Sunday afternoon, when it was usually the busiest.

Normally, having nothing to do would have irked Elizaveta to no end; she absolutely _loathed_ lazing around. But today, her mind was full of enough things to keep her preoccupied. Namely, the conversation that had just taken place earlier on that day with a certain Italian grandfather.

_"You said you wanted to ask me something right?" she called as they entered the empty restaurant kitchen, both carrying whicker baskets of produce each. Rome set his load of potatoes on a clean empty counter and nodded gravely._

_"I do. It's about your brother..."_

_Elizaveta frowned at the thought of the annoying blonde. "What about that seggfej?"_

_"Now, now, Lizzy. Dracul's a nice boy."_

_"It seems like it, huh?"_

_"Ah, well, you two'll learn to love each other one day."_

_"But today isn't it. What about him?"_

_"I...well, I was wondering if you might be interested in...strengthening the bonds of our family even more." The elderly man raised his head and stared straight into the slightly-bewildered eyes of the young Hungarian._

_"How so?"_

_"Marriage."_

_Oh, misunderstandings. Why must you be such a bitch?_

_"What? Oh, nem, nem, nem," Elizaveta shook her head repeatedly while subconsciously reaching out for a frying pan. "I couldn't possibly—there's just no—I love Feli and Lovi, I really do, but I don't think I'd actually want to—"_

_"No, no! Not you, my child, I was talking about your fratello!"_

_"My...what, Dracul...?"_

_"I wanted to know if you'd be willing to wed Dracul...to Lovino."_

It was natural that she'd agreed. Even told him it was a fantastic idea and oh, did they make such a cute couple!

((She adored boys' love, after all.))

Lovino was practically her son. She'd helped raise the boy more than his own grandfather had. And, as much as Dracul pissed her off more than anything else, she knew they would be perfect for each other. What could be better than your childhood friend, after all?

Speaking of, only her brother was aware of the apparent engagement at that moment. The sooner he knew, the sooner he could be drilled accordingly; she wanted for Dracul to at least be proper-husband material before offering him up to darling Lovi.

Plus, it was always fun to watch him spit out his milk when she yelled, "_Congratulations on getting engaged to Lovino_!" at the breakfast table.

"Oi! We're back!"

"Not so loud, Lovs! She bites, you know!"

And maybe getting hitched would teach him a few manners. She made a mental note to give Lovino an especially sturdy frying pan as part of his wedding gift.

"Hello, boys. Mmm, that smells _delicious_! Did you make all those yourself, Lovi?" Elizaveta beamed as the blushing Italian handed her a covered tray, no doubt the pie she had requested.

"Don't I always have to?"

"Mmm. No, but thank you anyway." She pecked him fondly on the cheek, smoothing out his smooth, wavy brown hair.

"Yuck. I think we need to bathe you in acid to get those germs off..._OW_!" Dracul was on the floor now, clutching an aching head with both hands. Beside him lay an empty jar.

"Aren't unbreakable containers amazing?" the Hungarian lady remarked as she led Lovino to the other side of the counter to properly display the baked goods. As they placed each pastry on their respective trays, she lightly commented, "Is Feli still over at Ludwig's?"

"...yes," ground out her 'son' through clenched teeth, roughly slamming a few mugs onto the counter.

Without paying him any mind, Elizaveta continued, "I feel bad... Can you imagine a weekend with Gilbert? Ugh."

"Pfft. You're telling me. That pervert's a fucking rapist."

"We really need to clean that potty mouth~"

Lovino only scowled, crossing his arms with a huff.

"Put on your apron, okay? I need you and _that moron_ working out here for a bit. Remember to be nice to the customers!" Elizaveta wagged a finger at him, winking as she retreated into the kitchen. Behind her, the Italian mumbled a few obscenities under his breath, accompanied by several "_fuck _the customers".

Aww...

Wasn't Lovi so _cute_?

A few minutes later, a young couple entered the run-down building, a cool burst of wind sneaking in through the open door as they scurried inside. Hands full with a previous customer's orders, Elizaveta called out, "Someone'll be right with you!"

A very female voice, polite and friendly, replied with a "Thank you!"

"Feel free to sit wherever!"

"Okay!" Then, in a softer voice, "C'mon, Toni, let's go over there."

"Sí..."

"Oh, I wish you'd cheer up," Bella whispered quietly as she slid into the booth closest to the wall, a simple window beside it. Her dejected companion remained unresponsive as he settled down in his own seat, setting his decorated box in between them on the wooden table.

"..hnn..."

"What's in there anyway? You never said." She reached out as if to grab it, but retracted her hand halfway, biting her lip. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," Antonio sighed, lifting the lid of the object-in-question to reveal two beautiful roses, one a vibrant red and the other a soothing yellow, atop smooth, velvety silk of the finest material. Both had thorn-less stems, tied together with a single white ribbon.

"Oh, _wow_," gasped the blonde, mouth dropping slightly in awe.

"Do you think he'll like it, then?" the Spaniard asked, his voice unusually shy and unsure. At this point, he really wanted to take no more gambles with Lovino; it was completely_ necessary_ that everything for that boy be nothing short of _perfect_. He desperately needed to be in his love's favor because if he were being honest, he knew that he'd somehow hurt him terribly.

"He'll love it." A pale hand suddenly came to rest atop larger tan ones, and he lifted his gaze to meet his longtime friend's emotional stare. Without breaking eye-contact, she firmly stated, "He is so,_ so_ lucky to have you."

Antonio laughed for the first time in what felt like days (though it had really only been a few hours). He leaned in closer, winking cheekily. "And Lars should be happy. Imagine, all those other men who will be missing out on someone who is just so intelligent, beautiful, and absolutely _breathtaking_."

Bella looked as though she were about to cry—whether it be from the heartfelt compliments or mention of her _true_ lover, nobody could tell—but before they could say anything, a horribly familiar and undoubtedly _irritated_ voice cut in:

"Hello, bast—I mean, _new customers_. My name's Lovino and I'll be your waiter this evening."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Aaaand it ends there. **

**Sorry about that long period of...un-updating-ness. To explain, all I can I say is this: school.**

**I think you know what that means.**

**On a different note, I've suddenly become inspired to write smut. So now I'm gunna ask if you guys are up to that and make this story M~!**

**Or not. Whatever's fine. Hahaha.**

**Uhm, about names: Alvarez is a last name. I know. But I like it, and it grew onto me. And Dracul. I saw it, I loved it. Even if it does sound like Dracula. I kinda just went around in circles with that one. ORZ**

**Two engagements. How fun. Why do I do this to myself?**

**Have I turned anybody into a Romanio fangirl yet? No? Aw. XD**

**Some Translations (btw, I'll only do a few. I'm sure you Spamano-Veterans know loads more than they teach in school...*cough cough*)**

**Calmáte - calm down**

**pero - but**

**seggfej - asshole (Hungarian)**

**nem - no! (Hungarian)**

**Well...until next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

**cinco**

"Well? What do you want?" Lovino growled, arms crossed, glaring impatiently at the gaping nobles in front of him. He had angrily thrown their menus (which were really only two pages of the names of Elizaveta's dishes listed neatly in a flowery handwriting) on the table, narrowly missing hitting the box of flowers. Flowers which that cheating bastard had clearly brought for his new and better fiancée.

On top of that, those roses looked like the ones he always gave_ him_, Lovino.

Oh, goddammit...

"Why don't I start you two off with drinks?" the Vargas boy forced out through gritted teeth. He really wished he had a pad of paper and a pencil with him right now to keep his hands occupied; otherwise, he might actually strangle his idiotic boy—ahem, ex-boyfriend. But alas, they couldn't afford the extra money buying said materials, so his hands were free to latch onto strangle-worthy necks of strangle-worthy cheaters.

"Oh...Uhm, okay...can we please have two cups of coffee?" It was Bella who spoke up first, very obviously not paying any attention to the menu she was pretending to read. (It was upside-down...c'mon, bitch, Lovi wasn't that stupid).

"Alright, then, miss."

"Oh! Oh, please, call me Bella~" Chigi, she was actually smiling at him. What nerve. To steal one's fucking lover and smile at the victim's face like it was absolutely nothing? Really?

Whore.

See, all this our darling Lovino thought. What he really said, however, was simply, "Sure, Bella."

"You say it so cutely!"

"Ah, sorry."

"Was that an Italian accent I heard?"

"Sì. In Italia, 'bella' means beautiful." Alright, admittedly, she was extremely pretty. No doubt about it. As much as he hated her guts (and then some) at the very moment, he couldn't deny at all that she was an attractive woman.

So apparently, Antonio liked the three 'B's on a lover that he ultimately lacked: beauty, blonde, and boobs.

...

Yup.

"Ooh, really?"

"Mmm-hmm. In your case especially, since it is most fitting," Lovino murmured, winking flirtatiously. What? He was Italian. And he was pissed. Revenge from a pissed Italian tended to hurt as far as relationships were concerned. If the bastard was going to leave him for this woman, then why not steal her back?

Er...maybe not back, since they were never together in the first place...not like _wanted_ to be anyway...

Okay, so he'd just _steal_ her.

No backs.

"Oh! My, my, aren't you quite the charmer, Lovino! Or may I call you Lovi for short?" Bella was flushing a little bit now, resting her chin on her hands, elbows touching the edge of the table. She looked up at their waiter through her eyelashes and batted them in a practiced manner.

Across from her, Antonio visibly stiffened.

"Any name that passes through your lips is good enough for me." Grandpa Rome...thank you. He'd learned well.

Giggling happily, a very flustered Belgian heiress fondly swatted the brunette's arm. "You're too cute."

"As are you, beautiful Bella. Let me go get your coffee now, eh?"

"Of course! Ah, and don't forget Antonio's~!"

Shit.

He didn't reply to that, just turned around and attempted to get away from the table as soon as possible. Key word: attempted.

Why? Because a tan, muscular arm reached over and encircled his waist before he could, effectively pulling him back.

"Where are you going, Lovi~?"

Oh, God, there was that voice. A voice he hadn't heard for a long, _long_ time. A voice he hadn't wanted—nor expected—to hear for an even longer time. A voice that, no matter how much he hated it, would always reduce him to a pile of mushy, disgusting, pathetic, love-struck European goo.

"I'm getting your order, sir," griped Lovino, all the while angrily pulling at Antonio's fingers in weird angles that fingers should _never_ be pulled in.

As much as it obviously hurt, the Spaniard only winced and carefully tugged his abused digits from (hopefully still) his lover. He never relinquished his hold, though, and pulled the boy closer until he could comfortably nuzzle his naval.

"I _missed_ you...don't leave me again..." The words were muffled against his shirt, practically unintelligible.

"The hell are you going on about?"

Antonio audibly sighed, now using both his arms to keep the antsy Italian in place. He looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, the intensity of the raw love in those green pools unnerving Lovino to no end. Fuck...how could he look at him like that? Like he actually loved him? It was so fucking confusing...

The idiot was acting like his future wife wasn't even there!

"_Mi amor_...I've missed you so, so much. Did you not miss me?"

"I—wha—"

Thankfully, he had a Romanian superhero waiting in the sidelines to pull him out of sticky situations.

"Lo-_veen_-no_oo_~ I need your _assistance_~"

Never mind how annoying he was at the moment; he'd rather take that than a deceitful ex-lover.

"If you excuse me." (The 'bastard' at the end was left unsaid, to Antonio's disappointment.) Frowning deeply, Lovino stalked away, back to the kitchen. Inside, Dracul patiently leaned against the old cool box, raising an eyebrow in an amused matter.

"What was that about?"

"No fucking idea..." muttered the Italian as he searched for two clean cups. The coffee would probably take another five minutes or so to warm up.

"Hmm..._so..._is that your secret man?"

Lovino almost dropped an entire set of A Serpenyő's only good china.

"W-what?"

"Y'know, the guy you're always sneaking off to see? Is that him?"

Maybe Elizaveta was right about her brother being a creepy black magic wizard of some sort. This was just waaay too fucking scary, even for Dracul. "I—what are you talking about—?"

"C'mon, Lovs, I've known you since forever." _More than you realize._

Lovino's silence was a dead giveaway, and they both knew what it implied. Humming thoughtfully, Dracul bit the inside of his cheek as the clanking of silverware rang throughout the quiet kitchen. Finally, after a few minutes of saying absolutely nothing, the blonde chuckled lowly.

"Wanna have some fun?"

Outside, Antonio was having a bit of a mental breakdown.

But since he did come from the country of passion, 'a bit' tended to lean towards 'a fuckload'.

"Where is he? I can't see him...how long has it been? Is he coming back out? Should I check? What if—?"

"Toni...Toni, please calm down..."

"I can't see him! What if he leaves again?" At the sudden, very unpleasant thought, the Spaniard quickly sprung to his feet, craning his neck as he stared intently, desperately, in the direction of the kitchen where his lovely boyfriend disappeared off to.

"Tonio! Please!" A hand reached out to stop him, but failed miserably and was quickly shrugged off.

"I'll be right back, Bella, I'm just going to get—"

"Now, no need for that, is there?"

Surprised, they turned around at the same exact time to find a smiling strawberry blonde carrying a cute little silver tray with two steaming cups atop of it. Winking at them, he placed the coffee on their respective ends of the table and glanced up at Antonio.

"Is something the matter, sir? Did you need something?"

"Ah—well—"

"No, no, it's nothing," the blonde noble said, staring pointedly at her companion. Her eyes simply screamed, _'SIT BACK DOWN_!'

Reluctantly, the Spaniard complied, but that didn't stop him from frantically searching for his beloved. Some more.

"So," Dracul inquired, tapping the tray thoughtfully with his fingers, "are you guys friends of Lovino's?" He was mildly impressed that Antonio still hadn't stopped his Lovi-search. But then again, he understood completely why he was so anxious to see the Italian. He understood the effect Lovino had on people. And on him.

"Uhm...something like that..."

"¿..._dónde_..._mi amor_...?

"What's up with him?"

"Oh...you know..."

Alright. Operation _Enerva Spaniolul_ shall commence!

"Hey, there, sir? Are you looking for my—ah—_fiancé_?"

Dracul had always known that words were a very powerful weapon. They were the main reason he could annoy the hell out of Elizaveta until she snapped without even moving a muscle. Still, he didn't know just how much until he saw this Spaniard's reaction to those ten words.

It really was like as though a switch had been turned on (or off). One second, Antonio had his eyes scanning the entire dining area, craning his neck, constantly twisting and fidgeting in his seat as though he wasn't capable of ever staying put. Then, throw in those words and _boom_. The bastard was completely still, shell shocked, staring at Dracul like he had grown several dozen heads and was now sporting out random shit.

Not to mention, he looked unable to speak.

"...what?"

Ah, lovely Bella. Always filling in uncomfortable silences. And whatever the hell this one was; because, you know, uncomfortable wouldn't really be the word. More like, _'fuck, this psycho looks like he's about to stab my eyes out and tear my body apart and holy shit, I think he just growled at me.'_

For the record, Lovino had actually threatened to do that to him before.

"Oh, yes. He and I are getting married. Isn't it wonderful? It's recent, though, so I guess you can say you two are the first to hear of our _amazing_ news..." Dracul pleasantly told them, casually ignoring the look of absolute horror on Antonio's face. He could feel someone glaring at him, no doubt a certain Italian baker who had been observing them for the past few minutes. He vaguely wondered if Lovino knew exactly what he had just said. Then again, if he had, the boy would've probably already done something. So, obviously not.

"You two are engaged? H-how lovely..." Bella winced at the betrayed look her fellow noble shot her, especially since he looked devastated enough. Poor boy. He had already been stood up (well, technically) earlier on that day by the same man who was now apparently also engaged to someone else. Specifically, this attractive little Romanian. Who was now smirking at the two of them and looking as though he was mentally giving himself a pat on the back.

That was, until a small jar came flying out of nowhere, hitting him square on said back. Hissing in pain, he whipped around to narrow his eyes at an annoyed Lovino, who returned his hard glower with more venom than he could ever attempt. Knowing his fun was over, he sighed, and returned his attention to the questioning stares of his rich customers. With a laugh, he bowed politely. "I must go for now, so go on ahead and look through our menu. Please, take your time. I'll send Lovino over in a jiffy~"

Exeunt Dracul!

The blonde didn't need to glance back at Antonio's murderous glare to know that he had just officially made his _'People I Absolutely Want to Murder Right NOW'_ list. Which was fine, because quite honestly, the feeling was entirely mutual.

A hand quickly closed around his neck, cutting off his air supply (as another tugged harshly on his hair), startling him out of his thoughts.

"What _the fuck_ did you say?"

"Nothing! I just gave them their drinks and asked if they knew you!"

"Bastard! Don't lie!"

"See, you should really lighten up on the whole chocking thing bec—ah—use..._ack_! Lovs! That hurts—!"

"It's supposed to, dumbfuck!" Lovino shook his neighbor a few times before unceremoniously shoving him aside. Dracul leaned against the kitchen wall, gasping for air.

"Hahaha. So mean, Lovs..."

"Fuck off."

"Yes. Okay. Well, I also told them you'd be back to take their orders...so..."

"Tch," scoffed the brunette, crossing his arms huffily. Fuck. He didn't want to talk to Antonio and his no-doubt slutty bride-to-be. The moron might even try to convince him that he loved him or some shit like that. Which, by the looks of everything that had happened so far, was complete bullcrap. Yeah, Toni loving him? Give him a break. Lovino knew the harsh truth now. He knew that the Spaniard never really loved him. Antonio just...liked his body, maybe. What else was there to like?

...yeah...nothing...

"Oh...You okay, _dragul meu_?" Dracul whispered softly, kindly, as though aware of his mental self-loathing, a hand gently brushing his hair. He also took that oppurtunity to wrap his arms around the boy's waist. Snapping out of his (painful) thoughts, Lovino scowled.

"What did you call me?"

"Ah. Uhm...nothing. I-it's akin to 'buddy,' if that helps."

_Akin_...remember that.

"Hmph. How do you say 'fuck you' again?"

The blonde paused, eyes flickering with something undecipherable. It seemed to be a mixture of sadness, hope, and amusement all at once. A mess. "_Te iubesc_."

"Huh. Really?"

"Well, yes, it roughly translates to...something really destructive."

"Fine. _Te iubesc_, _bastardo_!"

Something was definitely off, Lovino mentally noted. Dracul was biting his lip and avoiding eye-contact. He seemed to be in the verge of crying, whether from joy or despair, nobody could tell. His red orbs sparkled, yet were downcast all the same. He was the very epitome of yin and yang. Contrasting and confusing. Pleased and pained. Hurt and happy.

"Oi. The fuck's wrong with you?"

"Nothing... Uhm. Ah. You pronounced that wrong... C-can you say it again?" The Romanian's voice was strained and soft, like he forgot how to speak. Lovino didn't think twice when he repeated,

"_Te iubesc_."

"..._te iubesc, dragul meu_..."

"Wha—finally grown some balls, eh? 'Fuck you, buddy,' right?"

Dracul laughed despite himself, shaking his head. Ah...if only he_ knew_...

"Something like that."

* * *

><p>Bella could honestly say that she had never seen an explosive Antonio Fernandez Carriedo before. But there were firsts for everything, right?<p>

Lately she'd been seeing sides to her darling Toni that would have normally seemed flat-out unimaginable had she not experienced them herself. There was last week when he'd cried over missing his lover, had sulked and moped and closed himself off from anyone and everyone. Then there was this morning when he was so, so very excited and apprehensive, like he would explode from having to wait a second longer to see Lovino. Then that afternoon, in the alley, when he had looked completely beaten up and crushed, as though every single one of his dreams had been annihilated in front of his very eyes and announced hopeless.

But at the same time...the look on his face when the Italian (unhappily) informed them that he'd be their waiter...

There were no words to describe Antonio's total bliss either.

The same way that the universe lacked words to describe how absolutely pissed he was at that very moment.

"S-so Tonio...Uhm...did you decide what you wanted to order yet?"

Exactly how was she supposed to deal with an enraged Spaniard anyway?

Who, unsurprisingly, was now clenching and unclenching his fists as stared coldly at the roses Lovino hadn't noticed despite being _right there_. It was so obviously for him and yet he acted like it wasn't even there. Antonio's heart was on the line! Did Lovi no longer feel the same way? Did he really find someone else to love...?

At the thought of losing his beloved, Antonio felt his heart clench painfully and stomach drop. His eyes burned as he continued to replay the blonde man's words over and over again in his head:

_He and I are getting married. Isn't it wonderful?_

Why hadn't Lovino told him? Was he going to wait until the day of his wedding before finally saying,_ "Oh, yeah, bastard. Forgot to say, but I'm getting married to some guy you've never met. Nice, no?"_

Oh, God.

This wasn't happening. This could_ not_ be happening. Not to him. Not to _them_.

They were supposed to get married. To. _Each. Other_! _Not_ anybody else!

It was supposed to be Lovino_ Carriedo-Vargas_.

They were supposed to run away with each other on their wedding night and honeymoon far, far, far away from this place. They were supposed to turn their backs on their old lives and start afresh somewhere else together. As husband and husband.

So what the hell was this about? Who the fuck was this Romanian douchebag who was insisting he was engaged to Antonio's beautiful, wonderful Lovi?

He was so lost in his thoughts that he could barely register Bella's voice calling out to him from a distance.

"Toni. Hey, Toni!"

"Don't worry about him. Thinking probably makes his head_ hurt_."

Lovino had never been tackled so hard (and unexpectedly) in his life.

One second, he was making snide remarks about a stupid bastard's intelligence (or lack thereof), and then quite suddenly, he found himself pinned to the floor by that same bastard, who looked about ready to devour him.

Did he mention their faces were about an inch away from each other?

No? Well, they were. And also! Hips. Were. Pressing. _Hard_.

You know what that meant.

"Bastard! Off! Now!" He struggled vainly underneath the tan and fit Spanish man, which only managed to bring them closer together. Huh. Now wasn't this a familiar position. His face immediately broke out in an embarrassing tomato blush at the thought.

"Lovi..._my_ Lovi," Antonio murmured, his breath tickling the younger man's face. Squirming uncomfortably, Lovino began to whine.

"Off!"

"No...I'm _never_ letting you go..."

"You better! You're fucking heavy, you know that?"

"_Lo siento_...but I need to make sure you'll stay."

"Carriedo, get off of me!"

Now he did it.

The Spaniard froze. Hurt evident in his expression, he cupped his lover's face and forced their eyes to meet. His stung painfully, shamefully. "My Lovi...don't call me that."

"Oh, yeah. Two last names. Why not, _Fernandez Carriedo_?"

Trembling, Antonio shook his head and placed a small, chaste kiss on the boy's forehead. "Please. Call me anything else...just not that."

Lovino paused in his struggling and considered his boyf—erm, the weird, totally_ unattractive_ man shamelessly on top of him. He looked...uncertain. Very self-conscious and nervous. Just so..._not_ Antonio.

He only called him by his last name...he didn't even use any of the obscenities he normally had specially reserved just for him. But for some reason...he was acting like Lovino had just branded him with the foulest _thing_ imaginable.

_What?_

"Dammit. Get the fuck off before I kick your ass to the next fucking decade!"

"_Te amo_." The hell? Where did that come from? "_Eres mío. Sólo la mía_."

"What are you—?"

"Lovino," the noble whispered desperately, achingly, "_por favor_. Tell me you're mine and mine _alone_."

_Please, please, please, please, please._ He'd die if it were otherwise. He'd lose it if his beloved denied what he needed to hear the most. Oh, _dios_, please. Let Lovi love him as much as he hoped he would. Let the boy blush cutely and grumpily admit that there was nobody else in the world for him besides Antonio. _Por favor. Por favor_.

"I—fuck...I don't—"

"Yes, you do. Tell me you love me." At this, a pair of strong, warm hands entangled themselves with Lovino's own delicate—yet calloused—ones. His breath hitched at the action. "_Dime_."

"A-Antonio..."

"Excuse me, sir, but what are you doing to my fiancé?"

Above him, Antonio's eyes darkened considerably and his entire body stiffened. He quickly strengthened his hold on the Italian while glaring at the intruder over his shoulder

"Actually, Lovino's_ my_ fiancé."

Dracul raised an eyebrow, unamused. He glanced at his silent friend's questioning stare and returned the Spanish bastard's glare tenfold. "You know what? I don't care who you are. I don't give a fuck how rich and powerful your family is. _Get the fuck off my lover_!"

When Lovino felt the heavy weight on top of him disappear, he immediately panicked; he wasn't stupid, he knew what was about to happen. Instinctively, he grabbed onto his ex-boyfriend's arm, effectively holding him back from killing his Romanian neighbor. Admittedly, it wasn't as easy as he hoped it would be.

"Lovi! Let go, _mi amor_! I have to kill this_ puta_!"

"Not unless I kill you first, you fucking_ tâmpit_!"

"Toni—"

"Dracul—"

"Lovi, ignore him!" Antonio practically growled, attempting to shield his lover from the unwelcome stranger. In front of him, said stranger spluttered, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

"No. If anything, Lovs should ignore_ you_."

"Lovi."

"Lovs."

"_Lovi_!"

"_Lovs_!"

"Both of you, _shut the fuck up_!" Lovino snarled, snapping to his feet and positioning himself in between his longtime friend and ex-lover. He made sure to keep both within _his_ hitting range but apart from each other.

The Spanish noble stood up and held his arms out, staring deeply into his hazel eyes only. His lips quirked into a soothing smile, one he reserved only for his perfect baby. "Come here, _mi vida_."

A tug on his hand made the Italian turn the other way, only to meet the fierce gaze of the Romanian waiter. "No...come with_ me_, _inima mea_."

Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

Was he supposed to choose? Why the hell were they acting like he was? Like fuck was he going to pick; they were both complete_ idiots_.

Wait...

A while ago...who said fiancé...?

"I'm whose fiancé?" he blurted without thinking, blinking in confusion at the thought of being married to either of the men beside him.

The response were two immediate choruses of, _"Mine!"_

At the same time.

"Don't you remember?" Dracul quickly began, before his little rival could even open his mouth, "Your grandpa insisted. We need to strengthen our families' bonds, after all."

Lovino shifted, mind processing the new information. Normally, he would have been quick to deny such a thing. Maybe even hit the other boy for good measure, too. But he was good with reading eyes, and he knew, with just one quick look at Dracul's red orbs, that the other was, in fact, saying nothing _but_ the truth.

And as we were all aware of, the truth was just another annoying bitch, right up there with life and love.

The moment his lover missed his cue to rebuke the statement—something Antonio was _desperately_ hoping he'd do—the heartbroken Spaniard was quick to spring into action. "Lovi. Don't forget. You love _me_,_ sí_? You won't marry anyone else? You'll marry _me_?"

Fuuuuck. Why did the bastard have to open his mouth? Now he felt...that weird, disgusting sensation whenever he was aroun—

...w-wait...

WAS THAT A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL?

"The fuck?" Lovino gasped, his initial goal of not showing any amount of emotion flying out the window.

"We'll get married!" promised Antonio enthusiastically, usual happy demeanor back in place. Yes. Perfect. He could do this. He could win Lovi back and they could run away like he always planned to. Yes. "It'll be beautiful. And it'll just be the two of us..."

"B-but—"

"Aren't you engaged already?" interrupted Dracul harshly, reaching out to pull the flustered Italian into his arms. He held on tightly, gazing evenly at the once-again enraged nobleman. For good measure, he planted a soft, loving kiss on the baker's temple, never once breaking eye-contact with the Spaniard.

_"Stop!"_ ordered Antonio, ready to combust at any minute. Behind him, Bella shakily grabbed his arm and tugged him backwards.

Let it be said that he hardly moved an inch.

"You see?" the waiter coldly pointed out, rolling his ruby eyes at the pair of them. "You have_ her_. You're marrying _her_. And Lovino? He's with _me_. And he'll be marrying _me_."

And, without a care about any of his upcoming doom, without giving a flying fuck about all the inevitable consequences, Dracul spun Lovino around so that they were facing each other and firmly sealed their lips together in a passionate kiss.

_He's mine._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: O.o **

**So...yeah...I'm gunna have to leave it at that. Sorry. DX**

**Uhm. Well, summer break's started so yay! XD Hopefully...this'll come to and end smoothly. So far, though...bleh.**

**Thanks for the lovely reviews! They're amazing and I appreciate you guys taking the time to leave me feedback. ;D**

**I feel so, so bad for Dracul here...unrequited love is always sad. BUT, I was glad I managed to do a 'Fight For Lovi!' scene. I've always wanted to see Antonio go head-to-head with someone over his amor~ Muhahahahah!**

**Ahem. Yes. Translations~**

**¿dónde...mi amor? - where...my love?**

**Enerva Spaniolul - annoy the Spaniard (Romanian)**

**dragul meu - my love (Romanian)**

**Te iubesc - I love you (Romanian)**

**Eres mío. Sólo la mía - You are mine. Only mine. (Spanish)**

**dime - tell me (Spanish)**

**puta - bitch (Spanish)**

**tâmpit - asshole (Romanian)**

**mi vida - my life (Spanish)**

**inima mea - my heart (Romanian)**

**cinco - five (Spanish)**

**exeunt - This is used in plays when you tell characters to leave the stage. Yeah...still in Merchant of Venice mode *sigh***

**As you can see...poor Dracul...**

**And hahaha, I find it amusing looking up swear words in foreign languages :D**

**Awwrightt~**

**Ciao, bellas~!**


	7. Chapter 7

**zes**

There was nothing worse than a slow day at work.

I stand corrected. There was nothing worse than a slow day at work in the midst of a depression. At least, for the commoners and peasants, that was. Those rich assholes like the Carriedo's (cough—_Antonio_—cough) had no problem siphoning money from those who needed it the most. And as such, normal people like Lars, who could not afford a royalty-worthy mansion and thousands of acres worth of property, were left in the dust without even a single copper coin to their name.

The slow work day was just an added bonus.

"Fuck..." he groaned, glaring hatefully at his unused anvil. This week, he'd only had three customers. Three. What happened to the days when he couldn't even sleep because of all the orders he had to fill? The days when there would be a fucking line out the shop door? The days when Bella would laugh at his 'work-face' and tell him stories of her latest chocolate experiment and kiss him when he—

No. No, no,_ no_.

He wouldn't think about her. Not now. That'd just add to the blow of being in poverty and having nobody to rely on.

He was alone. For the first time since he'd met Bella...

What the hell, he had nothing better to do anyway! Why not just bask in the angst and remember the good ol' days when he still lived with the van Rijns?

When he first met Bella?

He was five.

His parents couldn't afford to take care of him anymore. Not that they really _did_ in the first place. His mom was a prostitute, and his father was the man who made her one. They weren't rich, but his dad knew the right men—wealthy men—to sell his wife off to. Money was tight, but it was there.

Food, on the other hand, was not.

It was one thing to have money, and another to use it for food. His parents had found that gambling and alcohol were much better buys than bread or milk for their only son.

Eventually, a pretty young woman had caught him 'stealing' pastries from Rome's (though really the old man had left it out for him to take and was watching him with sympathy from afar) and, after taking one long look at his starved and haggard state, promptly took him in.

She had taken him around the small town, buying fresh food and drinks for him to consume while she tried to find information about his 'family'. Eventually, a local seamstress informed her that Lars's parents (whose surname was a mystery) had bolted out of town the moment their son failed to return home.

Furious, the nice lady gathered the very confused boy in her arms and hurried home.

He'd never seen such an_ enormous_ house in his life.

It was a bit overwhelming to be doted on and given what he wanted. But that was what had happened to him the moment be set foot into the grand mansion.

_"You'll be staying with my family and I now," she had informed him kindly, voice soft and gentle like a real mother's should be, "I hope you like it here."_

Eventually, after being properly cleaned, fed, and well, pampered, Lars found himself facing an adorable little girl with tiny blonde curls that barely reached her ears. She had bright green eyes and the sweetest smile he had ever seen.

_"Bella, baby, this is Lars! He'll be like your new big brother. Say 'hi,' darling..."_

She was precious, the way she shyly greeted him before running elsewhere in embarrassment when he returned the smile. He figured that he would get along with this Bella.

Maybe they could even be best friends.

Oh, how right he was.

However, only after only a few months of joining the van Rijn's was he suddenly faced with a boy who would soon become the very bane of his existence, his most loathed enemy.

A boy with the name of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, one of Bella's closest friends.

His new 'mom' had insisted he join the younger girl's play-date that day. And, being unaware of the danger in doing so, he had agreed without a thought other than hoping they could play something other than dolls.

An hour later, when he was patiently 'chatting' with Bella about what kind of dessert had the most chocolate, a tiny little _pipsquick_ with a goofy smile on his face came bounding in, effectively hitting him with a shoe that had gone astray in his excitement.

And thus began another World War.

Let it be known that this was the only memory of Carriedo that he never minded remembering.

Probably because he had pretty much beaten up the other boy to a pulp that day.

Fuck, had that been so much _fun_.

In fact, it was so much fun that it almost made up for the extensive berating he had received from both his and the younger boy's parents after an injured Antonio had run downstairs, sobbing uncontrollably.

_Almost._

Mrs. Carriedo had been ever so very pissed—psh, like any mother wouldn't be—and Mr. Fernandez had looked unhappy but a little understanding (_"Boys will be boys, I suppose..."_).

The adults didn't really faze him. He was used to grown-ups taking their anger out on his sorry ass (thanks, stupid, abandoning parents). No, it was the words of a fun-looking teenager (who he had assumed to be an older brother) that had him avoiding Antonio for years afterwards.

_"Do **not** fuck with my brother again, kid, or else. 'Sides, only **I'm** allowed to make him cry."_

Yup. Scary as hell.

Plus, he couldn't forget that Bella had been really, really, really upset, too. She had refused to play toys with him for almost a week, before finally caving in when he had (desperately) offered to play dress-up.

They were pretty much okay after that.

But not Antonio. Never Antonio.

Moving right along now...

Lars had always known that he was in love with Bella. It was almost a given.

So he wasn't really surprised when—once he'd reached his terrible teens—he'd started feeling different towards the young girl.

Blushing when she looked at him...stammering when they spoke...always glancing at her lips, wondering what it would be like to _kiss_ them...

He didn't know if it were a blessing or a curse that she had no idea what was going on with him.

Eventually, that sudden fixation with pretty little Bella led to an _incident_ that he'd rather not remember.

(It involved chocolate. That was all he could say.)

Which, in turn, led to him leaving the household altogether.

Not that he was kicked out or anything. He just told his 'parents' that he needed to be on his own and they had, although reluctantly, let him. His mother, however, flat-out refused to send him away without making sure he had some sort of house and plenty of money to get started with.

Thus began his blacksmithing era.

_Woo._

Lars wasn't by any means egotistical. He wasn't a bragger, and he never believed himself to be the best blacksmith in town. But he had to admit—to some extent—that he was a relatively good one.

And because of that, he was successful. He had customers, he had money. He never had to go back to the van Rijn estate and beg his foster parents for help.

He never went back home.

Unfortunately, that only led to the inevitable confrontation with the one girl who had unintentionally driven him away in the first place.

_"So this is where you've been," a beautiful and familiar voice called out to him. Lars almost threw his sledge hammer across the room in surprise, heart immediately going into overdrive._

_"B-Bella?" the Dutchman stammered, mouth dropping open as an extremely gorgeous woman sauntered over to him. And that was just **it**; she was **not** the young, adorable little girl he had left crying in front of the mansion as he walked away from her life. She was a sexy, attractive lady in an equally gorgeous silk dress who was making him sweat so fucking much and—shit, was it **hot** in here or was it just him?_

_"That's me," she murmured in reply, coming to a rest in front of him. The blonde rested her hands on his shoulders, pulling him slightly downwards so she could better meet his wide eyes._

_"Y-yeah?"_

_"Missed me?"_

_"Uh—well, y'know...I uh—"_

_"Good." And with that, their lips met for the first time since the incident so many years ago, silencing any reply he might have had._

_Yes...Bella was** so** much more different._

_Apparently her confidence had some major boosting since the last time they met and...ugh...**stront**...where the fuck did she learn to kiss like that?_

_Lars's mind, you're now fucked. _

_Sighing into the kiss, Bella pulled back, but only far enough to be able to nuzzle the man's nose with her own. Then it was back to kissing._

_Not that he was complaining._

_He reacted just as enthusiastically as his new lover (maybe?), wrapping his arms around her waist and reveling in her warmth. This was good...hell, this was fucking amazing._

_Then she parted their lips once more, pausing their make-out session in order to murmur against his neck, **"Ik hou van jou. Sindsdien voor eeuwig."**_

"Hey? Hello~? Lars? You okay?"

And just like that, his short-lived, bittersweet happiness crumbled into ashes.

He was back in reality, back to heartbreak and jealously and poverty. Back to a world where girlfriends decided to marry other men but keep you around for second best anyway because they just could.

Back to some guy grinning at him with a look of pure amusement, poking his forehead with his index finger.

Some world.

"Huh? Hey! The hell are you doing?" Lars snapped, shoving the man's calloused hand away from his face. He opened his mouth to give this asshole piece of his (sexy, hot) Dutch mind, but stopped short when he caught sight of calm, light-green eyes and a familiar scar...

"Well, _fuck_. Nice to see you again, Alvarez..."

* * *

><p>This was amazing. This was <em>so<em> fucking amazing.

Yes, he could live with this...he definitely could.

"Mmm..._Dracul_..."

"Heh. Lovs...oh, _Lovs_, I—ah—"

"Shhh," Lovino whispered, taunting, against his lips. He slowly pressed them together once more, moving in a painfully pleasurable fashion. A hand snuck its way down to his, intertwining their digits lovingly. All this Dracul noted with unbridled glee, closing his eyes as he allowed the Italian entrance into his mouth...

_Fuuuuuck._

Lovino was amazing with his tongue.

He totally called it.

The Romanian was suddenly pushed to his back, eyelids snapping open.

He almost passed out from the nosebleed that erupted at seeing his long-time crush leaning-shirtless and absolutely glowing-over his own trembling body.

"Ah—ah, Lovino...?"

"No...don't speak." A finger lightly traced the outline of his lips, teasing, enticing. He shamelessly let out a whimper, unused to this kind of attention. "I'll take care of you, _mi amore_..."

Oh, yeah. Could someone please thank whoever decided to kill him? Because he was so in Heaven right now.

Then Lovino moved in closer—ohGodohGodOH_GOD**OHGOD**_—and just as Dracul reached his pale, shaking arms out accept his new lover, a different voice called out to him.

An annoyingly female one that he had grown to despise.

"Dracul! _DRACUL_! Wake up! _Kistestvére_!"

"...ugh...hnn..."

"I think he's coming around now..."

"That bastard better..."

"Let's speed things up, then, shall we?"

_SLAP!_

"Ow! Fuck you, Lizzy!"

"He's awake," muttered Elizaveta coolly, crossing her arms as her younger sibling began to sit up, blinking. Beside her, Bella held a bloodied dishrag, eyes wide with concern for the semi-conscious boy on the floor.

"Shit...what happened...?" the strawberry blonde groaned, a hand rubbing the back of his head. He winced briefly when he touched a bump, cursing under his breath.

"Asshole Number One knocked you out." His head snapped up at the sound of the very annoyed Italian voice. As the recollection of his recent fantasies came rushing in, Dracul's face flushed pink.

"O-oh? Really?" he stammered, grinning sheepishly, unable to rid the mental image of his best friend stroking his naked chest, a gorgeous smirk on his pretty face. But when finally he turned to face said best friend, his entire smile vanished in an instant.

Lovino was _straddling_ that Spanish fucker's torso.

The same Spanish fucker who was also glaring coldly at him.

And had his hands on the Italian's hips.

"Yeah..." Despite it being painfully obvious that his neighbor was on his ex-boyfriend simply for the sole purpose of keeping him from causing more trouble, Dracul couldn't help but fume.

'That lucky bastard,' he jealously thought.

Elizaveta was staring at him with a look of annoyance...mixed in with something he couldn't quite pin-point. Perhaps relief, but why would that crazy bitch be worried about him? They abhorred each other, after all.

"You look comfy there, Lovs," he couldn't resist stating, his tone dry. In return, Lovino narrowed his eyes at him, scowling, middle finger raised in a salute.

"Fuck off...Asshole Number Two. If this bastard hadn't already tried to kill you, I sure as fuck would have."

...ah.

Okaaaaay...so maybe he _wasn't_ so happy about that kiss, then... Which sucked, because Dracul thought it was the _best fucking thing_ he'd ever experienced.

And...there had been a spark. _The_ spark.

The spark you felt when you touched your _soulmate_ intimately, the spark that assured the chemistry between you two...

And the actual kiss! The _magnificent_ lip-on-lip action! Hadn't he felt the _fireworks_? They were going off crazy in Dracul's head!

It had been _such_ an amazing feeling.

Was Lovino not understanding any of this? The fact that they were so very clearly _made_ for each other?

The fact that_ he_ was a much better match for him than that damn Spaniard?

"Don't deny that you liked it," he chuckled, pleased with the embarrassed blush that overcame his friend's face at the very words. Ah...Lovs was being cute again~

"Sh-shut the fuck up!"

Heheh. He didn't say otherwise now, did he?

Perhaps that meant he felt the same w-

"Of course _mi tomate_ didn't like that terrible kiss!"

Sigh.

...leave it to Antonio to ruin his short-lived victory.

Such was life.

"Why would that be, Señor _Asswipe_?"

"Because," snarled said 'asswipe,' tugging Lovino closer—which really meant that he had forced the blushing Italian to grind against him, that bastard—"_mi amor_ already has me."

"What about Bella, then?" The men started when they realized that both Dracul and Lovino had voiced the same question in unison.

Blinking in confusion, Antonio turned his full attention back to his red-as-a-tomato lover, who was staring pointedly off to the side, lips pressed together in a tight line. "What do you mean, _querido_? What about Bella?"

"Well, you're fucking engaged to her, aren't you?" snapped the baker angrily, hands balling into fists on the Spaniard's shirt below him. Was the bastard really that stupid? Who would want to be with a married man in the first place? Lovino Vargas wasn't a goddamn cheater, _thankyouveryfuckingmuch_.

"I-I am. But, Lovi, the thing is—"

"The thing is nothing! You can't go around 'claiming' me if you're with another chick!"

"It's not how it looks like!"

"What does it look like, then? You love me but you're marrying her?"

"Well—"

"Oh, I get it! I'll be like your fucking _mistress_. When she's not looking, you'll come here to see me—"

See, it should be noted that Antonio wasn't really the best at reading the atmosphere. He didn't pick up on undertones, didn't even know what hinting was. And, he never fully understood when one was being sarcastic.

No matter how obvious.

"Wow, Lovi~ I can't believe you knew what I was—"

"—but that's stupid, eh? Like fuck would I do that. Why would I fucking date a married man?"

_'Ah~ **¿Que?**'_

Antonio should also learn to let one finish their rambling before assuming they were on the same page.

You know how assuming worked...made an 'ass' outta 'U' and 'me'.

"I know, right? Why would anybody willingly settle for second best? I know _I_ wouldn't give up without a fight," Dracul scoffed, fully on his feet now. He swayed a bit from the sudden change in position, but otherwise was perfectly fine. He missed the twin nervous (and guilty) glances that the two nobles shared.

Elizaveta, however, did notice this, for she immediately pulled her 'son' off of the attractive Spanish man and dragged him with her to stand beside the blonde waiter. "I'm sorry. I hate to kick customers out, but I don't tolerate anyone hitting my employees."_ Especially my brother._ But she'd never actually say that.

"B-but—"

"No." Handy-dandy frying pan in hand, the long-haired brunette waved the two surprised noblemen away, keeping her two boys protectively behind her. Antonio shakily got up, but made no movement to leave when his blonde friend reattached herself to his arm and attempted to tug him away. Lovino mentally cringed at the seemingly affectionate action. "Please...go."

"Miss," piped up Bella from her place on the Spaniard's arm, looking sickeningly tearful, "Toni didn't mean to hurt Dracul. H-he just upset because he _k-kissed_ Lovino and—"

"I'm sorry," repeated the Hungarian, shaking her head. _'**Nobody** hurts my boys.'_ "I need you two to leave immediately."

* * *

><p>"...finally got some free time—fuck <em>yes<em>—and now, here I am," Alvarez finished with a flourish, breathing in the nighttime air as he and his companion exited the blacksmith's shop.

Lars nodded absentmindedly, locking the door behind them. They walked the cobbled street in silence for a few minutes before the older man finally sighed and rounded on him.

"Alright. I know you're pissed, but c'mon! Lighten up!"

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that when _my_ girl's probably out with that dipshit Spaniard?"

The Portuguese smirked at the last comment (Antonio was just as stupid as ever, it seemed), turning his eyes away from the enraged Dutchman. "Why not steal her back?"

"Oh, yeah, _sure_. I _could_ do that. But then again, Bella'll never choose me if she has Carriedo all over her."

"You really think so?"

"Yes. No. I-I don't know. Maybe..."

"I always thought you and Bella were such a lovely couple," continued Alvarez anyway, clasping his hands behind his back as they walked. Lars scoffed and readjusted his scarf—which happened to be a gift from Bella, but that was totally not a reason why he wore it; he didn't miss her or anything—kicking at a lone pebble on the ground. "You two balanced each other out perfectly."

"Well, then, too bad that green-eyed motherfucker decided to tip it over."

"I hope you're still talking about Antonio~"

"Of course I am!" the blacksmith snapped, flushing instantly. He ground his teeth together, fists clenching and unclenching.

"Maybe you should've heard her out..."

"I heard everything I needed to! She wants to end it with me without actually _saying_ it—"

"Where the _fuck_ did you get that from?"

"—she says she'll marry him but secretly date _me_, but all that's _bullshit_! She just wants to get rid of me by pretending that she's forced to marry...Carriedo...knowing_ I_ wouldn't want it... So now _I'm_ the bad guy..."

"You don't trust her enough, that's what it is," Alvarez quietly accused into the night, shoving his hands in his simple but handsome coat. His breath came out in chilled wisps, vanishing in the air like smoke in front of his mouth.

Lars's steely silence was all the response he needed.

He had believed it to be a blessing that he was granted enough time to visit his old friends. Working as one of the greatest entertainer of all time (as far as theatrical acting was concerned, of course) tended to be a letdown when it came to his social life.

He 'knew' famous people.

He wouldn't call half of them his _friends_.

If he wanted real friends—people he could trust with his life—then he only needed to drive several miles out in the countryside, away from the godforsaken city.

Hetalia was a nice little town, after all.

He'd hoped that he would see the majority of his friends right off the bat; it wasn't like the place was huge or anything. But no, when he'd driven through the gates and parked his car in the back of the inn he was going to stay at, there'd been truthfully nobody there.

The streets were empty, majority of shops closed with **'OUT OF BUSINESS'** signs all over... Hell, he hadn't even seen a vendor all day! It was as if they were all disappearing...

As if it couldn't get any worse, he'd stumbled into a depressed Lars's blacksmith shop.

And found out his brother was still being a compete douchebag.

And a woman stealer.

Which was weird, because he could've sworn the boy didn't swing that way...

_Ahem._

Yeah, so Alvarez's day hadn't been going all that great either.

At least he wasn't _Lars_...

Alright, that was mean, I'll admit it...

They were both so lost in thought that they didn't realize that someone had been following them.

Someone who then proceeded to smack their backs with a yell of _"BOO!"_

They totally _didn't_ shriek, or anything wimpy like that.

Nor did they grab onto each other in surprise. Not them, oh _no_.

Old man Rome Vargas _didn't_ really scare either of the fully-grown MANLY men.

Nope...

"Ahahahaha! Oh, that reminds me so much of little Feli and Lovi...ah, they were such adorable _little boys_..."

"ROME!"

"Well, _ciao_, to you, too..." The old man grinned, eyes bright with mischief as ever. He didn't seem fazed by the fact that Alvarez was in town, as though he knew he'd be visiting soon. "Nice to see you both."

"How are you, Rome?" the city gentleman inquired when he had composed himself, briefly hugging the elderly man. "Boys doing well?"

"Oh, yes, yes, very much so. Both engaged, by the way."

"Really? Let me guess...Ludwig for Feliciano...and...that blonde boy for Lovi?"

"Dracul."

"Ah! Yes—yes, I remember. He bit me that one day..."

"Wait, _what_?" Lars questioned incredulously, looking back and forth between the other two men.

"Yeah, Lizzy kept teasing him about being a vampire and I might've joined in—"

"No, not that. I _know_ Dracul's a freaky son of a bitch. I meant, Lovino's_ engaged_?"

"Yes, only recently."

"To_ Dracul_?"

"To Dracul," repeated Rome with a nod, smiling charmingly. He had a _good_ feeling about that kid...he just did.

"Wow. Looks like everybody's getting engaged..." the Dutchman muttered with a frown, rolling his eyes as though the very idea was entirely preposterous. Alvarez took note of this and smirked.

"Maybe _we_ should get hitched, too~" he teased in a sing-song voice, eliciting a loud guffaw from the Italian and few curse words from the blonde.

"Ah, you two never fail to crack me up. But anyway, I actually came over to ask if both of you would like to join me and my boys tonight for dinner...it'll be my little treat."

* * *

><p>Y'know, it had always been Antonio's dream to get kicked out of a restaurant by a bloodthirsty Hungarian with a frying pan.<p>

When shooting stars sped across the sky..._that_ was totally on his mind.

Thank goodness dreams really do come true.

"She actually hit you with that skillet," Bella mused with wide-eyes, dusting off her dress daintily despite it being complete clean. On the dirt floor, Antonio sat, crouched down with his knees to his chest. He was absolutely pouting, drawing tiny, invisible circles on the ground.

They were in some dirty old alley. Not really somewhere she'd normally rest in, but Elizaveta did chase them pretty far...

"Toni? Now what?"

"I'm going to sit here and wait until Lovi passes by. Then, I am going to _kidnap_ him..."

"...okay...but what makes you think he'll pass through here?"

"...I...Uhm...know which route his takes going back to the bakery...so..."

_...niiiiice..._

Stalker.

"Maybe—maybe we should go home," Bella carefully offered, patting her friend's head consolingly when he gave her an incredulous stare. She decided to let that last comment slide; you know, the one that pretty much branded her buddy as some _stalker_—like I said. "We obviously all need to cool off...and who knows? Dracul might not be here tomorrow and you'll get the chance to talk to Lovino in private."

"I refuse to return home without making up with_ mi amor_!" Antonio stubbornly stated, finally rising to his feet. He passionately nodded his head, sexy Spanish curls bouncing up and down in a sexy Spanish manner, as though he had just created another fact of life. Which he probably had. "I _will_ be Lovi's husband!"

"That's nice, Tonio..."

"We could get several acres of fields and grow all the tomatoes Lovi wants!" he continued without a care, emerald eyes sparkling.

"Tomatoes?"

"_Sí_~! They're mine and Lovi's favorite~!"

"Really? That's so cute..."

"...and...I'm sure that_ rumano estúpida_ has _nothing_ in common with _mi novio_..."

Bella bit her lip worriedly, eyes turning downcast. She hated to admit it, but personally, in her opinion, between Dracul and Antonio...the former seemed to have much more chemistry with the feisty Italian than her oblivious fake husband-to-be. The bond between longtime friends was something _irreplaceable_; something that wasn't easy to obtain.

But at the same time, Antonio was (or had been, depended how one looked at it) Lovino's _lover_. For quite a while now, it appeared. They were both definitely in love with each other, no doubt about it. She'd never seen her friend so enamored by anyone as much as he was for the handsome baker. And though she didn't really know him, Lovino seemed to be very much taken with the Spaniard in return.

Both men had their advantages and disadvantages. One was the _best_ friend, the other was the _boy_friend. At this point, she couldn't really tell who'd emerge as the husband of Lovino Vargas.

Only time—or the man himself—could tell.

"Ve? Antonio? Bella?"

"_F-Feliciano_!"

No sooner was the name out of their mouths when a flying ball of giddy Italian was thrown at them. Like a _boss_.

Little Feli giggled happily, arms wrapped around his two good friends. "Oh! Oh, oh, _oh_! _Ve~_ what are you guys doing here?"

"We—er, had some business to attend to..." the blonde heiress offered weakly, patting the bouncy man's arm. Antonio only mutely nodded, mind still very obviously preoccupied. For once. "Is Ludwig with you, Feli?"

"_Sì!_ He's right there! Ve~ Luddy! Come here~! It's Big Sister Bella and Big Brother Antonio~!" Feliciano was pretty freaking lucky everybody was used to the way he spoke; any other grumpy stranger (or perhaps his own older brother) would've hit him already.

"Bella. Antonio," greeted a gruff young man, obviously the German they were referring to. "How are you both? I wasn't aware you were visiting today."

"We're fine, thanks, Ludsy. I forgot you and Feli lived near this area..."

"Uh-huh! Ve~ we were just heading home!" the auburn-haired boy happily chirped, clasping his hands together with much enthusiasm. Suddenly, he gasped, his smile growing impossibly wider. "I know! Ve~ you guys should come over for dinner! It'll be so much _fun_~!"

* * *

><p>"...so...hubby..."<p>

"Dammit, Dracul! Stop calling me that!"

"Aww...fine. Hmm...how 'bout '_sexy_'?"

"Fuck. _You_."

"Oh! Well, if you insist..."

If Dracul could avoid that kick to the shin just as quickly as Lovino could deliver it, then either he was getting pretty good...or the Italian was losing his touch.

But that would _never_ happen, so let's just assume that Lady Luck decided to pay her respects to the young Romanian.

Lovi would never lose his touch. His cute, adorable, _tsundere_ touch.

"Hahaha! Missed me, missed me, now you gotta _kiss_ me!"

The baker simply rolled his eyes. That was, right before he graced his silly little neighbor with a fucking awesome headbutt, effectively silencing the boy.

"_OOF_! Ow...Lovs! That really _hurt_!" Dracul whined, clutching at his chest and heaving in an over-exaggerated manner. Lovino didn't bother glancing back as he continued his trek home, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket as the evening enveloped him in cool mist. The Romanian grinned, despite being left behind a few paces by his closest companion. He strode over to him regardless, and captured his hand in the process.

"_Oi_! When the fuck did I say it was okay to hold my hand?"

"Well, Lovs, I figured that we need to get used to this if we're getting married~!"

Blushing from both the blonde's contact and words, Lovino turned his head away. "Sh-shut up about that already, will ya?"

"...okay," Dracul whispered softly, affectionately, squeezing the boy's hand tighter. Unlike most others—_Antonio_—he knew when _not_ to push the Italian's buttons. He knew when he should stop annoying the man and _listen_ to him instead. He knew everything there was to know about Lovino Vargas...and yet...

"...oi, vampire bastard..."

_'Haven't heard **that** one in a while...'_ "Yeah?"

"...uh...since Liz went out with Feliks..."

"Uh-huh?"

"I don't care about it, or shit, but—since you'll be alone and all that—and—and because I'm _such_ a fucking nice person..."

"_Da_, Lovs?"

_'Fuck, I can't believe I'm doing this...'_

"...Nonno'll probably be pissed if I don't ask you to eat with us...so..."

"_Of course_ I'll have dinner with you, hubby~"

Why wouldn't he?

In fact, why _wouldn't_ anyone want to have dinner with the nice Vargas family?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Word count tells me this is the longest chappie so far. DX**

**So, I'm just gunna say. My updating will most likely be once a month. I am such a bitch. Sorry.**

**Oh, GOD. The Romanio in this one! O.e **

**Spamano~! Wherefore art thou, Spamano?**

**Oh, yeah. Lovi straddling Toni. Yup.**

**I'M GOING TO ADMIT THIS: In a Romania x Romano relationship, Lovi will be TOP. I CALLED IT. I have a secret thing for seme!Romano and uke!Romania. **

**DIES. **

**Did you guys enjoy my LarsXBella thing going on? I figured that relationship deserved some love...**

**And Alvarez! You're back! :]**

**...lol...dinner...yes...so much potential fun there...**

**So like...lately...I've been in love with the Pixar movie 'Cars'. Particularly, Luigi. And Guido.**

**Who I now ship together. **

**SHOT.**

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! You're all so awesome~!**

**Translations:**

**stront - shit (Dutch)**

**Ik hou van jou. Sindsdien voor eeuwig - I love you. Since forever. (Dutch)**

**zes - six (Dutch)**

**Kistestvére - little brother (Hungarian)**

**rumano estúpida - Stupid Romanian (Spanish)**

**mi novio - my boyfriend (Spanish)**

**da - yes (Romanian) ((BECOME ONE WITH ROMANIA, DA?))**


End file.
